


The Ebbing Tide

by AnOakTree



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Boxing Classes, Coffee Shops, Eventual Romance, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Past Abuse, So much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 87,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8827264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOakTree/pseuds/AnOakTree
Summary: ...
Laurent attempts to take control of his life, and ends up changing it completely.





	1. Chapter 1

The cafe was somewhere between his house and his university, it was just one of the reasons he liked it. It was converted from a small wooden house, a left over from when the now bustling suburb was just a quite place to live. Some of the old rooms remained, catering for those that wanted a more private atmosphere. What was once a back yard was now full of tables, and held a small stage. On Friday and Saturday nights the cafe showcased local independent bands and served alcohol, not that he ever went. But Laurent's favourite part of the cafe was the balcony. It had been converted, like much of the shop. What was once an awning with some fencing was now a bar with tiny pots of sugar and smaller pots of succulents. It looked out onto the street and over looked a small creek.

  
Back in the day, Laurent liked to imagine that some small working class family had saved their money, a little at a time, and eventually built a house on this street. What was once a quite street, but was now invaded by the every day hustle and bustle of a growing city. He liked to drown out the noise of the traffic, the noise of the school down the street, and imagine, how it would have been at one point in time. He imagined a small family, a man and a woman with two small children, sons, who moved there. They stood out on the balcony he sat at, before the house was chopped and changed, and they looked out over the water and smiled at eat other. They were grateful and humble, and proud of the life they had made for themselves. And sometime, he liked to imagine, that it was his family, and that his mother had never died, and that his father was more caring, that his brother lived closer.

  
However that was another life, and instead he let his mind clear. He watched the water, as it lapped against the shore with the movement of each passing boat. He watched the people walk by and listened into their conversation. Meaningless drivel most of the time, but he still listened. Catching a glimpse into another world, another life. Their meaningless words somehow a sonata to him, calming, easy, a reminder that life goes on. He sipped at his long black, occasionally reading a paragraph or two of his latest novel, and just let the world pass him by. He let himself imagine and indulge in fiction. It was the only time of the day he allowed himself to think what he wanted to think.

  
He had made a deal with himself, that when he went to the cafe and bought a coffee, he was allowed to think, and read, and do what he wanted. The condition was that when he bought his second coffee, he would pull out his text books and study. If he was going to indulge in mindless fantasies, the revere was that he had to study after. He had no time for day dreaming after all, so if he was going to do it, he had to at least follow it up with something productive. His first coffee had yet to end, and there was something he was waiting for before he studied.

  
There was a small independent boxing gym near the cafe. At first Laurent hadn't noticed it, he simply drank his coffee, read his book. But after some time he began to notice groups of sweaty people running by him. At first he ignored it, but in the end like everything else around him, he started to observe it. It didn't happen every day, but most days it did. He'd watch them run by, the ones in front, muscular, toned and out to prove something. After them were the ones that were merely there for fitness reasons, and not out to push themselves. After them came the ones that were obviously there to loose weight. Their struggle was obvious, they were covered in sweat, their breath harsher. Laurent liked them the most, because he saw in them a determination he admired. They saw something within themselves that they wanted to change, and they were doing their best to change it.

  
He always looked up from his book when they ran by. He liked to rank how they were doing. There was one girl he watched, she was easily the most unfit person there when she started. She had always been last in the group, breathing more heavily. Now she had moved on, she was still struggling to keep up with the rest, but one time Laurent, had heard her breath to herself 'don't be last, don't be last, don't be last'. He admired that, he admired her, and as she breathed to herself, she speed up, and she wasn't last. Every time there was a group he looked out for her. She wasn't always there, but he always looked for her. He was familiar with most of them by now. He even knew which days most of them preferred. They were fixtures at the gym, like Laurent was a fixture at the cafe.

  
Lately there had been a new addition. He was always at the start, stronger and fitter than the rest of them, but he always stopped in front of the cafe and watched as the rest of the people filed by. It took Laurent two weeks to realise that he was their trainer, and he was joining them, making sure they all completed the run. He stopped in front of the cafe, waited for them all to pass, and then joined the group once again once the last person had jogged by him. Laurent watched him too, and when they were finished, he closed his book. He put it back into his messenger bag seated next to him on a free seat and pulled out his text book.

  
That day was like so many others, when the runners disappeared he drained his coffee and stood up to get his second. Taking his cup back to the counter, the Barista behind the machine gave him a nod and began to prepare his second coffee. She was a short yet muscular girl with dyed green hair, they had barely spoken a sentence to each other but she knew his order, and made it without comment. Laurent liked that about her, he liked that he didn't have to have meaningless conversation and pleasantries. It was straight forward. He set the empty cup on the counter, along with the correct money. By the time he had, she was already putting down a fresh coffee in front of him.

  
"Saw you coming," she said with a wink, like she always did.

  
"Thank you," he said, not looking into her eyes, like he always did.

  
Walking away with the coffee back to the bar, he let his mind wonder. He wondered if he could be friends with her, wondered what normal interaction was like, what friends really were. He let it slide, like always, he wasn't usually one to indulging in fantasies. The familiarity of the cafe and the people that worked there made him think he was capable of normal human behaviour at times. But it was just that, familiarity, nothing more. He would not be able to be friends with the girl working the coffee machine. He would never be more than a customer. He placed his coffee back down on the bar, and focused on the water. He was suppose to be studying, but he decided to indulge himself once more that day. For once he would continue his book, and loose himself in another world.

…

The walk home from the cafe usually took around thirty minutes. He had a car, but he never saw the reason to drive a distance he could walk. Almost an hour to walk to the university in the mornings, the stop at the cafe half way turning his return trip into two half hour journeys. It was time to himself, and also helped make the time he spent at home as little as possible. He was twenty, it had been years since his mothers death, and the events that happened after. Yet to Laurent, his house was no longer a home, merely a place to reside. He didn't like to spend time in the house, surrounded as it was by shinny, tendered, carved wood. The beautifully rendered and built home, which had once caused his young eyes to stare in wonder, was now something else.

  
It no longer held fascinating memories of discovery, the library not as bright, the architecture not as detailed. As a child it was a home, a place where his brother and he ran around, played games and learned. It was the place were he curled into his mothers lap while she read to him in french, italian and spanish. He use to climb the book shelves when no one was looking, hide and wait for his brother to find him in other rooms. They acted like the attic was an unknown continent, ready to be explored. The wonder of an imaginative childish mind, buried underneath his mothers death, and his brother moving away.

  
As a child Laurent had never been conscience of the age gap between his brother and himself. Then his brother left for university in another state to gain his masters, 'I want to push myself', Laurent remembers him saying. A year after he was left alone by Auguste, his mother passed. Then there was just him, alone in the house, with a father who was never there. And when his father asked his Uncle to watch thirteen year old Laurent while he was away, the house took on a whole darker feeling. It wasn't his home anymore, his home was sweet and fun. His home was light, and filled with language and books and conversation. The house it become was dark, oppressive, overbearing. Not a home, a shell of shelter that human beings resided in.

  
It was still the place he returned to, at the age of twenty, he still locked himself in the empty house, his father never there. It was a place to live, that was what he told himself. He needed somewhere to live, and until he finished his degree, it was the best option. There was no point in living elsewhere when his university was so close to his home. Besides he knew he wasn't capable of getting a small time job. His personality made up for that. So in the mean time, he would live at home and hope, that by the time he came to his third year, he'd be able to get a placement somewhere, and earn enough to move away from it all.

  
He was usually alone in the house that was once so lively anyway. His father was rather high up in a certain company, (a company that Laurent was never to mention), and as such, travelled a lot. He was gone three quarters of the year but at the moment he was at the house. Laurent lead himself to believe that this was the reason he decided to indulge himself in another hour of fiction instead of study. It was extra time away from the house and real life, something he felt he needed with his father's presence in the house. Laurent hardly saw him, as if he was still away, but he felt him there. It was worse that his father had sent him a text whilst he was finishing the last dregs of his coffee. It simply read:

  
_"Come to my office when you return"_

  
When he was home, his father barely spent time in his vicinity, now that he was asking for it, Laurent couldn't figure out what he wanted. It was in no way a reflection of his behaviour, aside from his visits to the cafe, the only thing Laurent did was go between the university and the house. Even his trips to get groceries were organised so precisely that he only had to shop once a week. He's grades were steadily maintained and never fell below perfect, and he was sure to not annoy or pester any of his teachers. He had no idea why his father saw reason to speak with him, as they never had reason to in the first place. His father asking for him couldn't mean anything good. He assured himself he was prepared for it, but he still managed to turn what was usually a half hour walk into a forty five minute one.  
Even upon returning home, Laurent took his time. He took his shoes off at the door and inspected them closely, they were expensive after all. After that he went to his room where he took off his light winter jacket, and made sure it was hung up properly in his closet. When he was satisfied, he unpacked his messenger bag, he placed his lap top, his text books and notes out onto his desk. After all he had twice as much study to do tonight since he neglected it when at the cafe. After that he arranged his bed, checked his emails, prepared himself for the next day. Only after he was sure there was nothing else from him to distract himself with, did he head to his father's office.

  
Before he knocked, he corrected his posture, pushed his hair out of his eyes, and made sure his face was schooled in it's usual indifference. When he was suitably happy with himself, he knocked.

  
"Enter."

  
Laurent opened the door and was greeted with the usual figure. His father sat behind his desk, his eyes trained on the computer screen, not even acknowledging him having entered the room.

  
"You wished to see me," Laurent said with as much indifference as he could soak into his words. It wasn't hard, other than blood, there was nothing that connected his father and himself.

  
"Take a seat," his father said.

  
Laurent did as his father wished and sat in a seat, prearranged, directly in front of his father's desk. The seat, like most furniture in the house was expensive, the leather creaking as Laurent sank into it. He rested his arms on the arm rest and crossed his legs casually, not enough to seem bored, but in a way still emphasising that his time was better spent else where. His father didn't look up from his screen, instead he continued to type away, as if Laurent had never entered the room. It went on for another five minutes before his father finally looked away from the screen and at his second son.

  
"How is school?" he asked.

  
"It goes well enough, I'm sure you are sent reports of my progress. Why the pleasantries?"

  
"Is it wrong for a father to ask after his son?"

  
"It is when it's me."

  
At that his father, Aleron, seemed slightly amused.

  
"I guess I was talking to the wrong son."

  
"It seems strange for you to confuse the son you wanted with the one you didn't," Laurent said with ease.

  
Again, his father seemed amused, but then turned back to the screen, his indifference back in place.

  
"I suppose you are wondering why you are here?" he said, he let the silence hang while he continued on with his work on the computer, "Two reasons."

  
He finished with the computer and looked back at Laurent, who was making a show of picking at his nails.

  
"Your brother has plans to visit during the month of December. He's taken time off, so that his fiance and he can return to the family home, get to know the family."

  
Laurent didn't let the excitement he felt of his brothers return show on his face. Just like he didn't let the disappointment that his brother hadn't told him first show.

  
"And?" he said instead.

  
"I want you to be on your best behaviour, as my brother, your Uncle, will also be attending."

  
Laurent let his crossed legs fall to the floor and his hands gripped the arms rests hard enough to cause marks in the expensive leather.

  
"What?" Laurent asked with an even voice.

  
"I expect you to be on your best behaviour," his father said.

  
"You expect me to…"

  
Laurent couldn't even finish, the anger he thought he had pushed away for cold indifference returned.

  
"I expect you, to act civil, to not ruin your brothers return, or his engagement. Most of all, I want you to keep your mouth in check."

  
He could barely think over the noise in his head, and it was all he could do to dig his fingers out of the furniture.

  
"Was that all?" he managed to say instead.

  
"That is all," his father said, his eyes returning to the screen.

  
Laurent stood and gave his father a small nod, the only gesture he was capable of at that moment. He returned to his room, shutting the door behind him. He had a small moment of pause before his anger took over, he gripped at his head, his fingernails pushing into his skull. Dragging the fingers down, he went all the way down his neck, his skin stinging as he felt his nails pull skin away. His eyes were blurry and the room around him, his own room, felt foreign. He didn't feel his fist connect with the wall, or the way his skin split and stared to bleed. Nothing made sense and all he saw was his own anger.

  
So he didn't even feel it when he over turned his desk, sending his laptop and text books to the ground. When he pulled his sheets off of his bed, he didn't think how expensive they were when he tried to pull them apart with his own hands. The small bookshelf in his room wasn't his, it was just an object, as were the books in it that he began to throw across the room. Nothing mattered but his anger, not his attempt to make a sanctuary, nothing. So when he picked up one of the lamps next to his bed and hurled it at the door to his room, he didn't even care that it almost hit his father in the face. His father who was standing in the doorway to his room, a look of disgust on his face.

  
His father, who was across the room in seconds, gripping his wrists and slamming him against the wall.

  
"Laurent, get a hold of yourself," his father said, his own anger barely in check.

  
His head still thrumming with rage, Laurent tried hopelessly to pull himself out of his fathers grip and continue his rampage. In response his father gripped his wrist tighter, his bones shuddering in pain, he easily pulled Laurent forward and slammed him back against the wall.

  
"Stop this nonsense immediately."

  
Laurent stopped his struggles and instead glared at his father with every ounce of anger and hatred he had. His hands were starting to go numb from his fathers painful grip.

  
"Let me go," Laurent said as calmly as he could.

  
His father complied, throwing his hands down as if he was relieved to stop touching him.

  
"I'm disgusted at the man you have grown into."

  
"Yes, well, you played a part in that didn't you?"Laurent said with a sneer.

  
Aleron raised his hand as if to strike him but controlled himself at the last second. Laurent didn't even flinch at the movement, instead he let a smirk sneak its way on to his face.

  
"Go on then. It's not the first time you've wanted to, why don't you give it a go?"

  
His father took a step back and seemed to compose himself, the anger in his eyes didn't dissipate though.

  
"Clean this mess up," he said, with that he turned and marched out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

  
Taking a steady breath, Laurent raised his trembling hands to his face and dug his palms into his eyes. He was ashamed of himself, for losing control as he had.

There was nothing to gain from giving into emotions. The cold manor and disinterest he had built around himself would shatter in a moment if he couldn't keep his anger in check over some inconvenient news. If he was ever going to move on, and get on top of it all, he would have to do better. That being said, his anger wasn't going to go away just because he wanted it too. He needed to find an outlet for his rage soon before the consequences of his actions caused permanent damage.

  
He pushed harder until hie eyes until a small twinge of pain made him pull his hands away with a hiss. He looked at his hands, hating that they were still shaking, and noticed there was blood smeared across the knuckles of his right hand. Looking closer he could see he had split the skin between two of his knuckles. His wrists throbbed in pain, the red marks of his fathers hands still bright and stinging over his pale skin. He knew it would bruise, he always bruised easily, just like how he burnt in the sun in minutes. His skin was too pale and sensitive for his liking. His back hurt too from being pushed into the wall and he was once again ashamed of himself. Not only was he mentally weak, but physically weak. His father, a man approaching his sixties, had over powered him easily. It was something else he would have to do something about. He had to control his anger, suppress his emotions and work on his physical fitness.

  
He took one more deep breath and pushed himself off of the wall. Ignoring the pain in his hands, he set about cleaning up his room. He felt exhausted, and cleaning up the mess he made was a tedious task. He managed to right his desk and recover his laptop before giving up. Everything was too tiring, so he let himself fall onto his bed, still fully clothed. He wanted to sleep, but his mind wouldn't let him. Instead his mind replayed old memories, and when that was over, he replayed scenario after scenario in he head of the upcoming visits. Then his mind went back to his memories, but this time the outcome was different. He played over in his mind how different his life would have been if he had just done one thing different.

  
Rolling over on the bed, he pressed his face into his pillow and resisted the urge to scream. Tomorrow, he decided, he would take control. December was still four months away. Four months to prepare himself physically and mentally. Tomorrow, he would clean up the scattered ruins of his room, and at the same time, he would finally put plans into action to pick up his shattered life. He decided that piece by tiny piece, he would glue his life back together and become a stronger person.


	2. Chapter 2

He almost turned back three times before he finally stepped into the building. The night before he had sign up online, commenting himself to at twenty dollar weekly fee. If he didn't actually enter the building, all he would be doing was wasting money. He wasn't ashamed to admit he lived off of his father's money. He was given a weekly allowance that was direct debited to his bank account every Wednesday. Considering he never spent the money on anything other than food and other necessary items, the money had slowly piled up. They didn't mean he wanted to waste any of it. Despite living off of his father's dollar, that didn't mean he assumed it would be forever. He liked to keep his spendings to a minimum, because he never knew when his father would cut him off. So if he didn't actually enter the building, he would be wasting money. So after ten minutes of hovering around the area and almost leaving, he finally stepped in.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Although the building was large and airy with lots of windows, the first thing he smelt was sweat. The second was a thick plastic like smell which he attributed to the rubber mats that covered the floor. It was a large open space, the entire wall to his left was one long mirror. There was an open space between the mirror and rows upon rows of punching bags. The far right wall was nothing but windows and a low bench, stretching the whole length of the building. In the far right corner was a closed door, a sign on the door read 'Toilet/Showers' followed by a male and female sign.

Immediately walking in there was a small entrance room though. To his right a counter with a man typing away at a computer, to his left a row of benches with a small collection of people, male and female, sitting on them going through their bags. Taking the whole thing in again, Laurent noticed a few more people between the punching bags, some skipping others stretching. He almost turned around again thinking he was too far out of his league, but he forced himself forward, knowing he would never get anywhere if he kept running away.

It had been two days since the incident with his father, and he reminded himself that if he didn't do something now, he never would. With that in mind, he stepped up to the counter and caught the attention of the man behind the counter. He was obviously of Greek decent and had a name tag pinned to his chest that simply read 'Nik', he appeared to Laurent as nothing more than walking muscle. His shirt looked like it was straining and about ready to burst, peering closer, Laurent noted that his shorts were almost non existent, he would never understand work out clothes.

"Yeah?" Nik said.

"I signed up online last night for classes," Laurent said.

"Name?"

"Laurent de Vere."

There was the clack of the keyboard, the sound of the mouse clicking a few times before the man looked up.

"Newbie," he said.

Laurent didn't know if this was an insult or a confirmation.

"Alright then," Nik said with a nod standing up, "First of all I'm gonna need to see you're student I.D. before I can allow the student discount."

Laurent slung his backpack off of his shoulders and dug his wallet out of his bag. He provided the student I.D. which Nik accepted with a glance. There was more keyboard clacking and another nod.

"You got wraps?" Nik asked.

"No, I need to buy some," Laurent said.

Nik turned away for a moment grabbing something from the shelf and thunking them down on the counter. Laurent paid for them with his card, wincing at the extra fifteen dollars.

He had read through the entire website the night before, minimum requirement for all classes was to wear wraps. The classes ran from five in the morning until eight, and then again from four in afternoon until eight at night six days a week. Each class was an hour long with the gym open between morning and afternoon classes for private tutoring. The classes were called 'Cardio Box Fit' and were described as being a 'high intensity cardio and muscle work out'. At twenty dollars a week, with student discount, he could attend as many classes as he wanted. Laurent had decided that the early morning classes were best for him and had arrived at four forty-five.

"Know how to put them on?"

Laurent almost wanted to say yes, just so the encounter would end, but at the same time, he had no idea what he was doing.

"No."

"Kay," he said, moving from behind the counter.

Laurent noticed, that for all his mass, the man was actually shorter than him. It wasn't by much, maybe an inch or two, but for some reason he felt better about that fact. Nik opened the packet the wraps were contained in and immediately let the two rolls out to furl along the ground.

"Hold out your hand," Nik said.

Laurent, once again thought about turning around and heading for the hills, but he had already paid for the class and the wraps. Warily, Laurent extended his left hand. He almost wanted to hit NIk when he pushed the sleeves of sweat shirt up to his elbow without warning. As he predicted, he had bruising around his wrist from his fathers hands and two days later, it looked it's worse. He notice Nik raise his eye brows but thank fully he didn't say anything.

"Okay, first of all, we loop this around your thumb, next we wrap this twice around your wrist, next, we move up and wrap it five time around your knuckles. This is the point of these things, to protect your wrist and your knuckles. After that, we pull it down and loop it around your thumb once."

As Nik talked, he wrapped the material around his hand.

"Next it goes between each finger," Nik continued, "Then wrap it around the knuckles again, after that, you don't have much left, so pull the rest down and wrap it around your wrist."

With that, he secured the velcro and finished the whole thing off. Laurent flexed his fingers and noticed that he still had a good amount of movement, a bit stiff, yet the wrap felt comforting in a way.

"Did you get that, or do you want me to help you with the other one?"

Laurent thought about the split knuckle on his right hand still healing.

"I'm good," Laurent said.

"Okay, once you get the other one done start skipping, Damen will be out soon. He's the main instructor here and leads most classes. If it's not him you'll either get me or Vannes. Good luck."

Picking up the loop of the second wrap, Laurent replicated the movements to the best of his abilities. It didn't feel quite right, but he didn't want to ask for help. When he was done he stepped out onto the floor. While he was sorting out his membership and learning how to put on his wraps, the gym had filled with more people. He did a quick count and came up with almost twenty people. He was nervous, and didn't really want to join them, so he made his way to the back corner of the room, near the door leading to the bathrooms and found himself an isolated spot.

He was told he was suppose to skip, but Laurent had never skipped a day in his life. Instead he mimicked some of the other patrons in their stretches, not really sure what he was doing. He didn't realise how close he was to the door, until in the middle of a lunge stretch, someone stepped out and almost collided with him. The first thing Laurent noticed was that like Nik earlier, he just appeared to be a walking mass of muscle. After that he noticed that this person was someone better proportioned and taller, making him look less like a walking beefcake than NIk. The third thing that he noticed was that he recognised this man. This was the person he had seen running outside the cafe.

He was wearing a similar pair of shorts to Nik at the front counter, far too short in Laurent's opinion. Instead of a just about to burst t-shirt, he was instead wearing a loose singlet top. However the arm holes were so drastically large and revealing at the sides that Laurent wondered why he bothered with it at all.

"Pardon me," he said, stepping around Laurent's pitiful attempt at a lunge.

Laurent watched him, walk to the front of the room and stand in the middle, hands on hips.

"Five o'clock class! Put your ropes away, stop stretching and come to the front," his voice boomed out across the room.

…

At first the class was mild. They were to look in the mirror and practise the various types of punches and the footwork that went with it. First the jab, then the cross, with the cross he was to twist he back foot and use his body to drive the punch forward. Then he learned about rips, and how you used your hips and your feet in slight movements to drive the shots harder. The hooks were harder for him, because he couldn't' figure out how he was suppose to lock his arms in a certain way and let the rest of he body forward the momentum.

The hulking Damen was at the front of the class, looking into the mirror with the rest of them. He explained what was happening slowly, telling them all which parts of themselves to aim for in the mirror. At the back of the class, Laurent struggled to see himself in the mirror through all the other people. Each time they learned a punch and the foot work, they had to continue the motion until Damen stopped them. When he did he moved onto the next move, talking everyone through the motion like they were all beginners.

Laurent was almost bored, wondering what was high intensity about the whole thing. Once they went through every punch as a group, was when it really started. Suddenly Damen was yelling at them to jog on the spot, at random intervals he would tell them to jump, to do ten squats, to drop down and do ten pushups. They had to keep jogging between his commands. Laurent began to have trouble after his second set of push ups and when the command came again he struggled and instead started to do them on his knees. Then he yelled for everyone to do a hot lap.

Already sweating, Laurent had no idea what a hot lap was. Instead he kept himself at the back and watched as everyone jogged out of the building and into the street. He followed them as fast as he could, already feeling a strain on his body he had never felt before. They ran the block, passing by the cafe Laurent spent so much time in and filed back into the building. Laurent hated that he was last, at least almost last. When he staggered back into the building he heard the booming voice of Damen from behind him.

"Alright guys grab yourself a drink, then gloves on, find a bag! For those who don't know, communal glove are available on the back bench."

Laurent chastised himself for not brining water and instead went to the back bench and tried to find himself a pair of boxing gloves. He watched as all the other patrons pulled on their own gloves they had brought. So far he was the only one that was using the communal gloves. He had no idea what to look for, so he merely picked up a pair of black gloves. He winced as he slide the worn gloves on to his hands, his fingers wrapping around worn leather. He ignored it and found himself a bag, again away from everyone else.

"Moving on to combinations now!" Damn continued to yell.

Laurent wandered if the yelling was really necessary.

"First combination will be, jab, jab, cross, rip, hook, cross." As Damen yelled, he showed what he meant on a bag, "So what I want, is left, left, right, left, left, right. I want that rip and that hook delivered with the same hand before following with a cross from your right. Of course left handed people, I want the opposite. Watch your foot work, you have three minutes. Go!"

By this point Laurent was already exhausted but he continued. He took it slowly at first, trying to get the sequence right. Once he felt like he had it right he moved faster and started to hit the bag harder. Then he let it all out, this was the moment he was waiting for. This was the reason he had chosen this particular physical activity, the punching. Once he got the sequence right, it wasn't a bag his was punching, but his fathers arrogant face, his uncle's face. His anger raised it's ugly head and Laurent hit the bag with every ounce of strength he had. He no longer felt the sting of his busted knuckle, or the strain of his muscles. All he saw were the faces of those who hurt him the most.

_"You will not speak of this again!"_

With a particularly hard cross, he forgot his footing and his legs tangled. He stumbled backwards and would have fallen if someone hadn't grabbed his arm and pulled him upright.

"Calm down, pretty boy," Damen said, "Watch your foot work."

"Don't touch me," Laurent panted, pulling his arm from Damens' grip.

Damen backed away, a smirk on his face and his hands raised.

"Everyone stop! Jogging on the spot while I explain the next combination!"

…

The class ended with a five minute long core strengthening work out that Laurent failed. He was too worn down to do the things Damen yelled at them, like leg scissors, leg raisers, and russian twists. About the only thing he could do were the sit ups, which were followed by a one minute long plank. He managed to make it to the end of the plank without letting his knees drop, this being the only part of the class he was happy with himself with. When Damen gave them all permission to drop the plank, signalling that the class was over, Laurent dropped to the ground and spent a few moments trying to gather himself.

He vaguely heard Damen telling them all good job and to stretch it out.

He had no interest in stretching it out, all he wanted to do was have a shower and leave the place. He stood up slowly, his legs trembling beneath him and made his way over to his bag. He hadn't thought to bring something as simple as water, but he had brought himself a change of clothes and some toiletries, fully intending to use the facilities provided in the gym. He stumbled his way over to the front counter where all personal belongings were kept and collected his bag.

He had just slung it over his shoulder and turned to head back towards the showers when he was met with an impressive chest.

"Hey there pretty boy! A word?" Damen said.

"I would prefer you not call me by such a ridiculous name," Laurent said.

Normally, he would have said more, but he was completely worn out, and all he wanted to do was leave.

"No worries then, sweetheart."

Laurent shuddered, that was even worse.

"First of all, you're wearing inadequate footwear," Damen started, pointing down at Laurent's converse high tops, "Second, you're not dressed for this, sweat pants and a long sleeve shirt might be fine for a casual jog, but not for this. Lets move on to the fact that you didn't bring any water, however you can purchase some from behind the counter. After that, your wraps are a mess, I'm guessing Nik did one of them, and he's going to get in trouble for this don't worry, but the other is falling apart. The point of the wraps are to protect you, if you can't do them right, you're going to hurt yourself. And most of all, you are going to hurt yourself. If you keep pushing yourself above what you can do, you're going to cause yourself an injury."

The words were in a way condescending, but Laurent didn't catch a hint of arrogance in his voice. Instead it seemed that Damen was quite genuine and was instead trying to help him out. Somehow, that was more annoying than if Damen had merely told him he wasn't cut out for the class.

"Duly noted," Laurent said.

He made to walk passed Damen put was stopped with a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me."

"Right, I'm sorry, you already said," Damen said raising his hands again, he wasn't smirking this time, "Look… I don't expect everyone that comes in here to be a pro. What I do want, is for people to work to their abilities, and improve on them."

"Once again, noted."

Laurent walked by him and finally managed to make it to the showers.

The showers were terrible cramped things with bad water pressure and almost no hot water. He still felt better afterwards, even though his muscles ached and his legs still shook with exertion. By the time he finished the next class had started. He made his way behind the next group of people who were being talked through the punches like he was an hour earlier. He was walking passed the counter and out the door when he was stopped.

"Oi, wait, you haven't got your tag," Nik said.

"Tag?"

"Yeah, you have to scan in when you attend a class."

He was handed a small plastic key ring shaped like a glove, on one side there was a barcode, on the other the name of the gym.

"Thanks," Laurent said, shoving it in his pocket.

"One more thing."

He turned to the fridge behind him and pulled out a bottle of water, placing it on the counter.

"On the house, you can thank Damen."

Laurent let himself look over at Damen interacting the class. The man winked at him and turned back to the class. Laurent snatch the bottle and left the building with a growl.

He made sure he was well away from the gym before drinking the whole bottle down in one go.

…

Laurent felt the ache of his muscles increase gradually throughout the day. He thought the strain would dissipate, but it only increased with time. Stairs were now his enemy, as was sitting down. When he crouched down in the library to grab a book, he thought he wouldn't be able to get back up. He nearly fell asleep in one of his lectures. If that wasn't all bad enough he had picked his longest day at the university to start his boxing classes. By the time his final class of the day ended at four thirty, he was just about ready to pass out. Yet, he still had an hour long walk home to face.

He thought briefly about catching the bus home, but thought better of it. He was in no rush to get home so he started his daily journey home on aching feet. Walking helped in a way, it was when he was still for too long and then had to move again that it hurt the most. The constant movement helped lessen the strain, even if he was walking slower than he usually would.

It took him forty five minutes to reach the cafe and as tired as he was, he felt himself turning into the building automatically. As much as he wanted to go home and collapse into his bed, his father was still home and he'd rather not be anywhere near him. The conversation from two days earlier still made his head burn with heated rage. He planned to avoid his father as much as possible until he left again. So he dragged his tired body into the small shop and up to the counter. He nodded at the usual Barista and placed the correct change for his order on the counter. Without a word he turned and went to sit at his usual spot out on the verandah.

The coffee arrived quickly, like it always did, and he pulled out the latest novel he was devouring. It was the second novel he had read by that particular author. He was so captivated by the first, that as soon as he had finished it he went out and bought another. Both novels were somewhat dark, dealing with people who were in all honestly, terrible people with few redeeming qualities. Laurent liked how realistic they were with dealing with the human mind, and how well paced they were. The first book he had read by that author had a somewhat open and frustrating ending. The second seemed like it was heading down the same path.

He had almost finished it and if it was any other day he would probably finish it in one sitting. But he was so tired that he found it hard to concentrate on the words. So instead he put the book to the side and focused on his coffee, watching the world pass by.

He was just taking a tentative sip of his still too hot coffee with a familiar voice rang out behind him.

"Hey there, sweetheart!"

Laurent dropped the cup down to the saucer with more force than intended, the hot liquid spilling over the edges and burning his fingers. He hissed at the burn before turning around with a glare.

Damen stood behind him in the doorway of the cafe with a casual smile on his face. He was dressed in a pair of loose black jeans and a large non discrepant dark read shirt. In casual clothing, he looked less imposing but somehow taller. Most of his bulk was hidden but Laurent could still see his muscles moving under his shirt as Damen started to move towards him.

"How're you feeling after this mornings work out?"

Laurent continued to glare at him and spat out a quick, "Fine," before turning back around. He screamed in his head that Damen would just leave and that would be that. However luck was not on his side, Damen pulled out the seat next to him and sat down.

"I've read that," Damen said, pointing at the closed book next to him.

"I highly doubt that," Laurent replied, picking up his coffee again. The spilled coffee dripped off the bottom of his cup, his fingers still tingling from earlier.

"Oh really," Damen said with a raised eyebrow, "Then how else would I know, that in the end, Lachlan decides that he'll…"

"Another word and I will dump this coffee in your lap," Laurent hissed.

Knowing the name of one of the characters didn't mean that Damen had actually completed the book, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Damen laughed and picked up the book, flicking through the pages until he got to Laurent's page marker.

"Almost finished then, the ending's good, not as disappointing as some of their other books."

"You've read their other books?" Laurent asked before he realised what he was saying.

"I've read everything by this author, own all of them too, yourself?"

"Just one other, _'Dead Gods'_."

Laurent didn't know what he was doing, one part of him was telling himself to shut up. Another part was genuinely interested to talk about books with someone.

"It's not bad, but it's not their best. My personal favourite is their third novel, _'Europe's Path'_."

Damen finally stopped flicking through the book and put it down, sliding it back towards Laurent.

"The books seem a bit depressing for you," Laurent said, annoyed that despite himself he was keeping the conversation going.

Damen shrugged and looked out at the creek across from them.

"Everyone has their moments in life when they want to surround themselves in something like depressing literature. It's a reflection of who a person is, and sometimes you associate novels with things going on in your own life."

Laurent was somewhat stunned by Damen's answer, he didn't know the man, but he seemed like a happy enough person. Laurent simply couldn't image him being the silent brooding type.

"Also the Author is Greek like me," he said with a laugh, "If you like, when you're finished I could lend you _'Europe's Path'_."

He was about to agree when he caught himself. What was he doing? He shouldn't be talking so casual with someone he just met. He reminded himself that this wasn't something he was capable of. He couldn't have friends.

Laurent stood suddenly pushing his chair back with more force than intended. He quickly shoved his book back into his bag and drank down the rest of his still burning coffee.

"That wont be necessary," Laurent said, slamming the cup back down on the saucer.

Without another word Laurent left the cafe quickly. Walking down the street, he heard the Barista yell at Damen, "What did you say! That's one of my best customers!"

And even with everything running through his head, hearing that made Laurent smile softly.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and gave me kudos.   
> I'm hoping to update this at least once a week and hope you all support me through this.  
> I know Laurent seems a bit off but I feel like this may have been how he would be if his whole world wasn't built around his survival like it is in the books.   
> The author they're talking about this is based on a real life author who's books I enjoy. I changed the names of their books but gave hints. Kudos to you if you figure out who I'm talking about.  
> My grammar is terrible and please point out any mistakes.  
> Comments give me life.  
> Thank you all again.


	3. Chapter 3

Laurent didn't think he could feel any worse. When he woke up on the Wednesday morning after his first boxing class he felt like he and the tin man could sit down and talk about the struggles of body movement and the state of the world in general. He could feel his body creak when trying to move and everyday tasks reeked of effort. It was the first time in his life that he hit the snooze button on his alarm. Laying in bed an extra nine minutes felt like heaven instead of wasteful. He hit it two more times before his tired eyes actually registered the time and he jumped up with more energy than he had.

Breakfast was a sad meal of buttered toast and a cup of coffee. Normally he would put effort into his meals, and have an omelette or at least porridge for breakfast. He didn't care, he'd felt more worn out than he had in years, food was food. He contemplated driving, put that down as useless and instead started his usual walk to university. Like the day before, he found that walking helped, his muscles stretched out and by the time he was walking passed the gym he was feeling alright. He and the tin man now had less in common, but he still felt they could sit down and talk about the state of the world.

He snuck a glance at the gym as he walked by, Damen at the front, yelling at a group of sweaty people. He would go again the following morning. He originally intended to go everyday, but laying his aching body down the night before, he knew this was an impossible task. So for the time being, every second day would be better for him.

With knew resolve, he increased his pace and made in to the University faster than usual.

…

As was normal of his afternoons, he turned into the coffee shop automatically. The steps were harder to take than usual, but he ignored it and made his way to the counter. As usual, he had the correct change ready and placed it on the counter. The usual Barista was there, the only day she was absent was Monday's.

"Glad to see he didn't scare you off," she said.

Laurent shrugged and managed to raise his eyes for a second of eye contact. He thought about saying more, but instead went to his usual spot and pulled out his book.

This time, although just as tired, he managed to finish the novel and put it aside somewhat content. Damen was right, although it was still a somewhat open ending, it wasn't anywhere near as frustrating as the other book he had read. It was a little bit annoying, but he felt at ease with the ending. Laurent also noticed that the character Lachlan didn't 'decide' on anything, but instead died, Damen had lead him on, but didn't reveal the death. He didn't know if this amused or annoyed him. Realising what he was doing he shoved thoughts of Damen out of his mind and went to buy his second coffee. It was time to study.

Laurent spend the next few hours studying his text books and pawing over his notes. He was too exhausted to study properly the night before so he had much to catch up on. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice the time pass by until the Barista tapped her fingers on the bar next to him.

"Sorry hun, we're closing up now," she said.

Laurent looked up slightly stunned, not only had she called him something as degrading as 'hun', but the sun was setting. He also noticed that everything had been packed up around him and that his chair was the only one remaining.

"Of course," he said.

Standing he shoved his books and notes back into his bag before shouldering it.

"See you tomorrow," she said, hefting his chair and moving it inside.

Laurent didn't respond, he walked into the darkened streets and in stead of returning home he went across the street and sat by the creek. He chose a spot under a street lamp and pulled out his books once again. With his father still home, he would rather sit outside with terrible lighting than risk a conversation.

…

He was still sore when he walked in for the five o'clock class the next morning. The burn wasn't as intense, but his muscles still ached in an unfamiliar way. Once again the walking pile of muscle that was Nik was sitting at the counter, he scanned in, and after retrieving his wraps and a bottle of water, he handed over his bag.

He sat down on the benches with the rest of the students and started to put his wraps on. When he had returned home late enough the night before, he had looked up youtube videos on how to properly put his wraps on. He practiced it while replaying the video until he felt he had it right. This time when he applied his wraps for a class, they felt just a strong as when Nik had showed him how to apply them two days earlier. His wrists still bore impressive bruising, and his knuckle was still healing, but they was getting better.

He had just stood up and was making his way to the floor to stretch when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, it's moody long black guy!"

Looking up, he saw the Barista from the cafe. But this time she was dressed in a similar attire to both Damen and Nik. Far too small shorts and a singlet top that was barely concealing. Through the loops of the top Laurent could clearly see the wrap of a sports bra, saving her from any immodestly. He also noticed a name badge pinned to her chest that said Vannes.

"Moody long black guy?" Laurent said.

"It's my name for you, I name all of my regular customers."

"Should I be honoured or offended?"

"Neither, I've got worse names for people. Condesending flat white, self discovery girl, predatory latte, and my favourite double shot bitch bag."

"You call customers this?"

"Not to their face, anyway you're here for a class, not for coffee. Get your skinny arse out there and start skipping. Damen may be the lead instructor here, but I promise you, I'm going to put you through a work out so intense you're gonna go home crying to Mummy."

"My mother is dead," Laurent said moving onto the floor, pleased with the shocked look on her face.

Happy that, that managed to shut her up, Laurent started to stretch and hoped that she was joking.

…

She was not joking, she was not joking in the slightest. The class ended the same as it had last time with a one minute plank. This time, he couldn't keep himself up the entire time, not just because he was so worn out, but because he was covered in so much sweat he found himself slipping. Throughout the class he had felt his hair form into a pile of dripping sweat, and during the combinations the sweat rolled down his face so freely that he could taste it and breathed it in.

He lay on the floor gasping at the end and wondered if his arms were strong enough to lift him. In the end he had to roll over and grab one of the hanging bags to pull himself up. He had brought water but he had drank it so greedily throughout the class that the bottle was empty. He was completely parched when he grabbed his bag and headed to the showers. When washing his body of sweat, he cupped his hands and drank the luke warm water. It was horrid and felt wrong in his mouth, but he was so thirsty he didn't care.

After shoving his sweaty clothes to the bottom of his bag he exited the showers and made to leave the gym.

"Oi," Nik called out to him once again.

Laurent turned with raised eyebrows. Once again Nik was handing him a bottle of cole water.

"Damen says to give you water until you start bringing enough."

Laurent almost wanted to walk out without taking it, but when he noticed that it obviously annoyed Nik, he stepped forward and grabbed the bottle.

"Please send my regards to Damen," Laurent said.

He left the gym and made a point of drinking the water directly in front of the gym, just to annoy Nik that little bit further.

…

Laurent had completely forgotten that the woman that made him coffee every day also worked at the gym. So when he walked in and she called him 'moody long black guy', it took him a moment to register.

"Is that all I'm going to be from now on?" Laurent asked, placing his money on the counter.

She shrugged taking his money.

"Well, I was thinking of changing it to, 'blondy sweat pants', which do you prefer?"

"The first," Laurent said, making to walk away.

As he turned he caught sight of a couple he had seen in the cafe before, regulars like him. He was curious, so he moved back to the counter.

"What're their names?" Laurent said, nodding his head at the couple.

"Ugh," she said with a roll of her eyes, "That's Vomit and Puke, like, we get it, you guys are in love."

Even more curious, Laurent looked around and found someone else reading a book by the back window.

"What about her by the window."

"Oh, she's new, haven't got a good one for her yet."

"What about the man on his phone?"

"Oooh, that's 'possible affair man', I've seen him here a few times with a lady. Thing is, he's wearing a wedding ring, she isn't, but they seem a little too close, you know?"

"She might just not like wearing her own ring?" Laurent said.

"Maybe," she said with a shrug, "But they still seem a little odd when together."

Liking this game, Laurent found another target.

"What about the man with the newspaper?"

"Oh, that's Steve."

"Just Steve?"

"Yeah, Steve's cool, always polite, always puts the paper away when he's done. Steve's fine."

"Fair enough."

While they had conversed, Vannes had finished making his coffee, and put it down on the counter in front of him.

"Thank you," Laurent said.

Without any further words, Laurent picked up his coffee and sat at his spot on the bar. Having finished his book the previous day, he hadn't yet found something else to read. So he pulled out his notes for the day and lazily read over them. He had barely made it through one page when Vannes pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.

"What're you doing?" Laurent said.

"What? We're friends now."

"Since when?"

"Since you happily engaged in insulting customers with me. And since I reduced you to a pile of sweaty misery."

"Shouldn't' you be working?"

"It's the afternoon shift, the kitchen is closed and mostly I just get stragglers. It's never that busy. Also I'm bored."

Laurent decided ignoring her was the best option so he went back to his notes. Unfortunately, she kept talking.

"What're you studying?"

"Business," Laurent said without looking up.

"Is that your passion?"

"Not in the slightest."

"They why're you studying it?"

"Because it means that at the end of my degree I'll actually get a job and not have wasted four years on a passion."

Vannes didn't seem to understand this logic, but didn't push the conversation. Instead she got even more annoying.

"You know, this is usually the point in the conversation where you ask me if I'm studying, or what my passion is."

"Really?" Laurent said, still not looking up, "From my experience, this is usually when the person forcing me to engage in conversation gives up and leaves."

Vannes shrugged and instead let her chin rest in her hand, looking out across the street at the water. They sat in silence and Laurent was glad that she had stopped talking but still somewhat perplexed as to why she was still sitting next to him. He eventually got use to her being there and focused on his notes once again.

A short time later, she pushed her seat back and stood up.

"As much as I would love to continue annoying you with my presence, a customer just walked in and I should start closing procedures."

Laurent did nothing more to acknowledge her than give a slight nod, his eyes never leaving his notes.

Like the day before, he sat and reviewed his notes over and over until the cafe started to close. He packed his bag and left the cafe. Behind him Vannes called out, "See you tomorrow!"

Laurent thought for sure he broke a tooth with how hard he ground his teeth down.

…

Firday morning he woke once again understanding the tin man. His limps ached, his head throbbed and his knuckles burned. Despite the wraps, his knuckles were red and raw even a day later. He knew a part of it would be down to his sensitive skin. Another part of him knew that what Damen had said was right, he was pushing himself too much, and probably not doing himself any favours. The split in his knuckle had reopened the day before and was still raw and painful. The bruises however, were showing signs of healing.

He managed to get up on the first alarm and make his way to the kitchen. Like he did every day since his fathers return, he thanked the greater beings that his father was absent from the kitchen. Not that he was surprised, the man probably bought breakfast every morning rather than sully his hands with such a menial task as cooking. Laurent didn't really care, he made sure that he was fed properly but never put too much effort into his meals. He was however proud of his omelettes and took a certain joy in how perfect he managed to make them every time.

It wasn't always that way. At first his omelettes had looked like a pile of vomit. For some reason, at some point in his life, he had decided that he was going to perfect the omelette. After a lot of trial and error he felt that he had. He honestly didn't care about anything else he cooked. However the omelettes, that was something else.

Lunch was always something simple that he could take with him to university. Most often a salad or a sandwich. Dinner he didn't care, as long as he produced enough of it to put in containers and last him a week. More often than not it was either stir fry or pasta. He remembered the days when his mother and brother were still in the house. His father hired people to make meals for them. At fifteen, Laurent was left to fend for himself. After a few months of living off frozen meals, he took to the internet and taught himself the basics. Nothing fancy, the most advanced thing he knew being how to fold an omelette.

He went through his day as normal, and on his journey home he was craving his afternoon coffee. But thoughts of Vannes sitting next to him, forcing conversation, and Damen doing the same left him wondering into a different cafe a few streets before his usual spot. He ordered his coffee, found himself an isolated spot and took out his books. When the coffee arrived, he took a sip and nearly spat it back into the cup. It was horribly burnt, and tasted stale. Until that moment he never thought he would take a simple cup of coffee for granted.

He forced his way through the coffee, still studying and managed to drink down the last few cold dregs after time. He didn't bother with a second cup and instead continue to study until the cafe closed down around him. The sun was setting as he left and he made his usual journey home. When he saw his usual cafe, lit up with soft music coming from the backyard, he crossed the road and hid himself in the shadows by the creek. He felt foolish, but he didn't want to be seen.

When he passed by the cafe he couldn't help himself and looked over. He knew that on Fridays and Saturdays the cafe turned into a live music venue. Even when he stopped by on Fridays he was usually gone by the time the evening crowd showed up. Yet he wanted to look in and a part of him wondered if they had noticed his absence that day.

Looking in he wished he hadn't. Standing on the balcony, very close to his usual spot, Damen and Vannes stood with a group of people. He recognised Nik amongst the people, outside of the gym, he still wore shirts that stretched over his muscles. They were all smiling, holding a bottle of beer in their hands. The sight hurt him in a way he didn't think he could hurt. Here in front of him were people his age, casually drinking and laughing with friends. It hurt because Laurent knew he wasn't capable of such interactions, and he wished that he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for your comments and kudos. I hope i continue to receive them. Sorry, this is more of a filler chapter but there is more to come.  
> Thank.


	4. Chapter 4

On Tuesday Laurent found himself back at his usual cafe. He tried a different cafe on Monday, and once again wanted to spit the coffee back in the cup. He resigned to his fate of having to put up with Vanne's new friendship venture and returned. Thankfully, when he ordered his usual coffee, she didn't force conversation and instead let things return to how they were. He sat at his usual spot and took a tentative sip of his coffee. He found himself letting out a relieved sigh and relaxed into his chair. It really was good coffee.

Tuesday morning found him completing his first week of boxing classes. Damen was his instructor again, that morning he decided to put everyone through a rigorous upper body work out. His shoulders especially ached, muscles in his back that he didn't even know he had twinged at the wrong movement. Laurent wondered if he was turning into some kind of masochist because he was starting to enjoy the ache of the work out.

Damen wandered around the class as they went through their combinations and talked to everyone, giving tips here and there. Laurent noticed that Damen bothered him twice as much as everyone else. He always had something to say, some of it about his foot work, most of the time it was to tell him to calm down. Laurent ignored him and continued to hit the bag as hard as he could. Old memories and hated faces flashed through his mind, and he took his frustrations out on the bag.

When the class was over, and Laurent had gained his breath back, he noticed the pain throbbing in his right hand. Gathering his stuff quickly, he made his way to the showers and took off his wraps in private. Not only had he once again opened the split between his knuckles, but all of his knuckles bore prickles of blood, like they were grazed. He washed the blood away in the showers and when he left he stuffed his hand into his pocket so no one, especially Damen, would see.

On the way out, he was handed another bottle of water, this time by Damen himself. He could see Nik rolling his eyes behind Damen's back. Laurent took the water without a word, but flashed a smirk in Nik's direction. He went to University, he studied and after his last class, he went back to the cafe.

He was surprised at how good he felt, sitting on the veranda with his muscles aching, hot coffee in hand. He felt some what content. Until Damen ruined it by walking up the street and entering the cafe. Laurent immediately tensed up and made a point of not looking at Damen. He instead focused on a group of ducks waddling along the bank of the creek over the road. He passed by and Laurent knew that Damen was looking at him. He continued to ignore him and relaxed when he heard Damen start talking to Vannes at the counter.

He tuned their conversation out, and continued to watch the ducks. They were funny things after all, he often found himself watching them. His serene moment was interrupt when a book was slapped down on the counter next to him. He spilled his coffee again. He turned with a glare, saw Damen looking down at him with a smile, a takeaway coffee cup in his hand. He moved his eyes down to the book, readying himself to tell Damen off. That was until he saw the book.

"What on earth did you do to it?" Laurent said, slamming his coffee down.

He picked the book up like it was an injured bird. The cover was creased, the corners of the pages all upturned. The spine was broken and the edge of the pages were dirty. Flicking through the pages he could see stains on the pages that looked suspiciously like pasta sauce. If that wasn't enough, there were random receipts, business cards and pamphlets jammed between the pages to make the whole book puff up. Laurent felt like he needed to take out a court order to remove the book from Damen's care.

"What?" Damen said innocently.

While Laurent had been busy mourning the poor books fate, Damen had taken a seat next to him.

"What?" Laurent mocked back, "You've butchered this book."

"You can still read it, it's not like I pulled the pages out and put them back in a different order."

"I wouldn't have been surprised if you did, look at this!"

"Calm down, it was second hand when I got it anyway."

Laurent ignored him and was trying, in vain, to straighten the bent corners. It took him a while before he noticed the title of the book. _'Europe's Path'_ the book Damen offered to lend him. Carefully, he put the book back on the bar and pushed it back towards Damen.

"I told you, that it wasn't necessary."

"I don't mind."

"I do!"

"How come?"

"Because I don't want to be swapping books with you! I don't want to be having conversations with you at all! I want to be left alone, but you can't seem to understand that!"

Laurent knew that his face was red in anger, another time his skin betrayed him. He didn't think it was possible for him to get so angry at someone that wasn't his father. He stared at Damen willing him to feel his rage, but all Damen did was look at him sadly. How Laurent wished that Damen was hurt, but that wasn't the reason for his sad look. Laurent realised, horrified, that Damen felt sorry for him.

"Leave," Laurent said, with a hiss.

Damen lowered his gaze with a sigh and took a sip of his coffee.

"I see you have some anger issues."

Laurent reeled back like he had been slapped. Of everything that he could have said, Laurent wasn't expecting that.

"It makes sense now why you over work yourself on the bag. Are you coming to class tomorrow morning?"

"What is it to you?" Laurent said, he wanted to yell at him, but his response came out quiet.

Damen didn't say anything, but he looked down and nodded his head at Laurent's hand. The skin over his knuckles had formed into scabs through the day, but the split half healed skin still looked angry and raw.

"I really don't want you to hurt yourself. I'm running tomorrows class, and there are other things you can do to protect yourself other than wraps and gloves. If you insist on continuing in your rampage that is."

Damen didn't say anything else, instead he got up and left. The book remained on the counter.

He wanted to leave, he wanted to hide himself in his room and forget about the world. He would have, if his father wasn't at home. He thought of other places he could go, but other than the University Library, there was no where for him to go. He felt his brothers absence like he hadn't felt in years. Phone calls and face time weren't enough, more than anything at that moment, all he wanted was his brothers calming presence. It hurt, it hurt too much. He drained his coffee and got up to leave.

He grabbed the empty cup and the book and made his way inside to the counter. Putting both the cup and the book on the counter he found himself staring angrily at Vannes.

"A customer left this behind," he said, indicating the book.

"You know," Vannes said, "Damen's a decent bloke."

She didn't look down at the book, but instead scrutinised Laurent.

"Good for him."

"And," she said, pushing the book back towards Laurent, "He happens to have a massive crush on you."

Laurent felt like he could choke on his own heart. The jolt he received was enough to make him wonder if he was going into cardiac arrest. No one liked him, she was obviously delusional.

"That's ridiculous. I'm sure he's much more interested in you than he is in me."

Vannes surprised him by laughing.

"Eww," she said, when she stopped, "Gross. Like, even if I liked dudes, he's still my boss. I have a girlfriend and she's more than fine."

She started laughing again, and Laurent didn't know where to look.

"Damen though, he goes both ways, but what about you? Damen's had a crush on you for awhile you know. He use to ask me who the pretty blonde was who came into the shop every afternoon. You have no idea how excited he was when you started going to his classes."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Damen is a really good person, and you look like you need a good person in your life. Even if you're not interested in Damen the same way he's interested in you, he'd still be your friend."

"That wont be necessary," he said.

He left the cafe quickly and was halfway down the street towards his house before he realised he had taken the book with him.

When he got home, the house was silent and still. It was obvious that the house was empty and had been for a while. He could feel that his father's presence had left the house. It was relieving, he felt like a great weight was off his shoulders. He could finally relax in the house once again. He made his way to the living room and lay down on the couch, something he hadn't done since his fathers return. The book was still in his hand.

"Damen's a decent bloke," Laurent repeated to himself, looking at the worn out book.

He opened the book to the first page and started to read.

…

Laurent went to the boxing class early the next morning. He was tired beyond belief, and his arms still ached from yesterdays class. When he made his way inside, he noticed Damen was on the counter instead of the usual Nik. Laurent scanned in, and neither of them said a word to each other while Laurent grabbed his things out of his bag. He handed the bag over and sat down on one of the available benches to apply his wraps. He made sure his back was to Damen.

He unfurled his wrap on to the ground and had just placed his thumb through the loop when Damen sat next to him.

"Yes?" he said, with a raised eyebrow.

"What I said yesterday, about more protection."

"Yes?"

"May I?" Damen said, nodding towards his hands.

Laurent debated on what to do, his head spilling a million different reactions. In the end he held out his hand, his right injured hand, with the wrap dangling from his thumb. Damen took his hand with a gentle ease Laurent didn't think possible for a man his size. He pulled the wrap around his wrist twice and once around his knuckles like normal. Then he produced a rectangle of what looked like spongy white foam and placed it over his knuckles. He continued to wrap his hands and secured the velcro in place. In the end Laurent had a perfectly, comfortably wrapped hand with a protruding but secure bulge over his knuckles.

With out thinking, Laurent held out his left hand and Damen once again wrapped his hand with the same added padding. He meant to focus on the way Damen secured the wraps so that he could do it himself. It ended with him watching Damen's sure and steady hands the whole time. When it was done, he gently lowered Laurent's hand back down onto the bench.

On the cusp of saying thank you, he found himself interrupted by Nik yelling out that the five o'clock class would start in five minutes.

"I though you were running today's class?"

"I didn't feel up for it," Damen said, with a forced smile.

Damen left, and Laurent got up and started to stretch.

…

Nik leading the class had it's own flavour. While Vannes seemed content to wear everyone out, and Damen mixed it up and focused on technique, Nik seemed almost completely focused on muscle building. He did an awful lot of push ups, was introduced to the kettle bell and learned the horror that was a rocket jump. They ran laps around the building and then grabbed dumbbells and did their combinations facing the mirror with the weights instead of hitting the bag. Then, when they were all worn out, they repeated the set combinations on the bag.

Laurent found that with the extra padding against his knuckles, he could hit the bag twice as hard and feel less pain. With trembling muscles, the class ended like it always did, with core and ab strengthening. Laurent managed the leg raisers and the Russian twists better now that he knew what he was doing, and at the end they were all ordered into a plank.

"I want all of you to hold that plank as long as possible, anything shorter than a minute is unacceptable," Nik yelled at all of them.

Laurent looked down and tried to think of anything else. He thought of his classes for the day, he thought about punching his father in the face. He thought about seeing his brother again, and he thought about how much he wanted to improve his over all fitness. His weakness in general.

"One minute mark, you can drop now if you want, but keep it going as long as you can."

Laurent wanted to collapse, but he didn't want to be the first one to drop. So he grit his teeth and held on, ignoring the combined strain of his stomach and arms muscles. His elbows hurt from holding the grunt of his weight and he felt his toes would slip out from under him. He refused to be the first person to drop.

"Two minute mark!"

Laurent heard it when someone next to him gave up and slid to the ground. Like a domino effect, many other people followed, but he still refused to give up. He started to tremble with exertion, it hurt to breath. Every time he wanted to drop, he told himself just a little longer.

"Three minute mark!"

More people dropped and one of them was Laurent. Three minutes he could deal with, three minutes he could be proud of. He dropped to the mats and tried to control the shaking in his body. He had pushed himself too far again, Damen would tell him off for sure. When he realised just how hard it was for him to breath, he'd probably let him. It wasn't until he heard Nik call out the four minute mark that he finally dragged himself up. As usual, he didn't stretch out, but instead made his way to the counter and collected his bag. There were a scant few people on the floor, still holding themselves in the plank.

He showered, and as usual, on his way to leave, Damen handed him a bottle of water. Nik was next to Damen when he did it, Laurent smirk at him once again when he accepted the water. Nik turned away with another eye roll and started the next class.

Before leaving, Laurent pulled Damen's book out of his bag and slapped it to against his chest.

"The ending was terrible," Laurent said, as Damen fumbled with the book.

"You finished this already?"

Laurent didn't reply, and instead went on his way.

…

Having read the entire book in one go was only half the reason he was so bitterly tired. The other half, was that at multiple points in the night, he had put the book down to ponder over what Vannes had told him. He was having a hard time comprehending, how someone, anyone at all, could have a crush on him. What made it worse, is that Laurent couldn't figure out how he felt about the matter.

It was ludicrous to begin with. Part of him didn't believe it and thought that perhaps Vannes had misinterpreted the whole thing. Even the fact that she had told him that Damen was bi-sexual and had been asking after him, could be seen as something else. Every time the thoughts intruded he pushed it aside. Damen didn't know him, he had merely seen his face and decided he liked it.

He would pick the book back up, and read through it for another hour before the thoughts returned. Surely, Vannes was mistaken, surely. What was there to like? The fact that Damen hadn't been scared off after a few brief conversations meant nothing. He flat out told the guy he didn't want to speak to him and he still hung around and offered help. Obviously, Damen was the masochist here.

This train of thought continued through the night until he completed the novel. The ending was wonderful, unexpected, and left him feeling overwhelmed. He had now read three books by the author and he hated that Damen was right, this one was their best. He pondered over the book, wondering about the many different things that had happened in the dark and oppressive novel. It wasn't until his phone started to vibrate in his pocket, his usual morning alarm going off, that he realised that he had been up all night.

He had set the alarm to attend a morning class. He could easily turn it off and get himself a couple of hours sleep before going to school. Laying on the couch all night hadn't done his already aching body any favours. Yet he wanted to go to the class, he wanted to feel his muscles burn. Most of all, he wanted to throw the book at Damen and tell him it was terrible.

Maybe insulting a book he seemed to hold in high regard would teach him a lesson.

…

The cafe´ was like a beacon, the coffee, a god send. Laurent was near desperate when he took he first sip of coffee. The flavours rolled over his tongue and the caffeine did its job of making him feel a little bit more alive. He wasn't concerned that he wouldn't be able to sleep that night from the caffeine. It had never bothered him before, he felt at that moment he could be taking caffeine intravenously and still get a full nights sleep. Caffeine didn't affect him as harshly as it did other people, usually he didn't even feel the high. He drank coffee because he enjoyed the complex arrangement of flavours that come from a well made coffee.

Having no book to read, he started to study half heartedly, he was yet to review his work from the day before, so he started on the previous days notes. It wasn't really necessary, once the flow of the Business degree clicked in his mind, he found it rather easy. Most of it seemed to be about knowing the proper terms. Some of it he figured they had changed simple terms into something else, just to make everyone in the room sound smarter than they were. There was a large amount of computer lingo, something that Auguste helped him with as far away as he was.

Forever in awe of his brother, Auguste had completed duel degrees in Law and Computer Programming. In the end Auguste ended up representing software, and internet security companies and was doing very well for himself. It made the things that Laurent had to learn in his Business degree seem like child's play. While he was somewhat proficient on the computer, it was not his forte´. He had learned it out of necessity, not because he enjoyed it. Also, at times, he played dumb so he would have an excuse to call Auguste over the simplest of things. He figured Auguste knew, as it wasn't long before they're conversations turned from school work to casual.

The other major part of his degree that he had to focus on was mathematics. Not advanced mathematics, but more of a good general knowledge. Percentages were a big part of it, and things like measuring distances were needed for silly things like, 'what if someone wants to build this building in this spot and the cost etc etc'. He didn't have a problem with maths, once you figure out the pattern the rest followed. Ultimately, it was boring.

As boring as it was, and as sure of himself and his own understanding, it was good for him to review every day. He couldn't afford to miss something, just because he thought he understood it all. So he spent his first coffee reviewing the previous days notes. When that was done, he got his second coffee and started on his notes for the day.

He was still tired, and a little unmotivated, which was probably why he didn't notice someone sitting next to him until they spoke.

"Was the ending really that bad?"

He had been reaching for his coffee, and had jerked at the voice, knocking the cup and forcing some of the contents over the rim onto his hand. He looked up, and was not at all surprised to see Damen sitting next to him.

"You seem to be making a habit of making me spill my coffee."

To drive the point home, Laurent flicked his coffee drenched hand in Damen's direction.

"I didn't mean to," Damen said, a smile on his face, "But, was the ending really that bad?"

"It was atrocious."

"How so?"

"The whole novel was predictable, right down to Matthew finding his estranged brother in Italy."

He lied, Laurent hadn't expected that at all. For the way the narration went, the author had made it seem that the protagonist's brother was dead. In the end, the point was that his brother was dead _to_ him.

"But the ending is what you were angry about."

In all honesty, Laurent could not fault the ending in the slightest, instead he changed tactics.

"If you are here, and Vannes is inside make coffee, does this mean you've left Nik alone to do the afternoon classes by himself?"

The smile slipped from Damen's face and he looked away, instead he focused on the take away coffee in his hands.

"Uh," Damen said, seemingly unable to know where to start, "Recently I hired an extra person, a High School kid. He just mans the desk some afternoons at the moment, but in time we'll work him up as a trainer. He's good, but still young. Why… do you ask?"

"Just curious," Laurent said. He didn't care in the slightest, he just wanted to distract Damen away from the book.

"I couldn't help but notice," Damen started, and Laurent was delighted to notice he seemed nervous, "That every time I give you water, you smile at Nik."

"How does that matter?"

"It's just that. Well, it's my boxing gym, I own it, I'm the one… who's giving you water."

That fact that Damen owned the gym and wasn't just an employee was unexpected news to him. He wanted to ask why this mattered, until he noticed the nervous way Damen was tearing apart a napkin. It all clicked to him after that, the way that Damen's smile had dropped when he asked about NIk. The nervous way he had told him about the water. He realised that Damen, for some reason, thought that Laurent had a thing for Nik. It was so ridiculous that he found himself containing laughter.

"You can't seriously think that I, have an interest in Nik do you?"

Laurent delighted in how obviously uncomfortable Damen felt. Damen stumbled over his words, the poor napkin resembling a pile of snow flakes. This was something Laurent could do.

"Vannes, tells me you have a crush on me. Is it true? Scared your friend was going to take me away?"

Ah yes, there it was. The complete and utter look of despair of a downtrodden man. He reviled in it for a moment, and then felt a second of pity for Damen.

"Honestly, if you must know. I smiled at Nik because it so obviously annoyed him that you gave me water."

"That's… a relief," Damen said, finally leaving the napkin alone.

"Is it true?" Laurent said, his tone serious.

"Hmm?"

"Do you have a childish crush on me?"

Laurent knew that adding the word 'childish' was hurtful, but he couldn't help himself.

"Maybe."

"Why?" Laurent said. He very much wanted it to know. If it was just because of a glimpse of his face, Laurent could easily destroy the man and bring him down.

"Well," Damen said, taking a nervous sip of his coffee, "I saw, a very thoughtful looking young man, who happened to be beautiful. Drinking good coffee and reading books I had read. I saw him looking into the distance, and watching birds with a hidden smile, sometimes hidden sadness, and I thought, 'That's someone I want to know'."

Completely unprepared for the answer he received, Laurent didn't know how to respond. He was fully prepared to tear Damen apart, but found that he couldn't.

"The amount of coffee I've spilled because of you almost adds up to an entire cup. I believe you owe me a coffee."

The words came out of his mouth before he realised it.

Damen smiled at him then, and Laurent hated that someone could smile at him that way.

"I'll buy you a cup if you answer properly. Was the ending really that terrible?"

Laurent drained his coffee, pushed the empty cup towards Damen, and answered honestly.

"No. The ending was perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for the Comments and Kudos.  
> I am glad, yet saddened, that so many understood how Laurent felt at the end of last chapter. It's something I've felt many times in my own life.  
> I'm on a roll with weekly updates at the moment and I hope to continue it!  
> Please continue to comment as it helps me so much. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Laurent went home that night with his head a mess of sleep deprivation, too much caffeine and Damen. As soon as he entered the house he crashed onto the nearest soft surface, the couch, and remained there. He couldn't find the energy to get up and go to his room, and he found that he didn't really care. Kicking his shoes off, he made himself comfortable, burying his head in the couch cushions. The sun had barely gone down, but he fell into a dreamless sleep quickly.

His last thoughts were of Damen, apologetically admitting he didn't know his name. Laurent again had to stop himself from laughing before finally putting him out of his misery and telling him.

His alarm went off once again for a morning class, his phone still in his pocket. Struggling to extradite the offending object he fell off the couch onto the floor. When he finally found his phone, he turned the alarm off and sent his phone skidding across the floor away from him. Climbing back onto the couch, he fully intended to go back to sleep. Five minutes later, he pushed himself up and started to get ready for the class.

Life continued in a similar manner for Laurent for the next two weeks. He attended the boxing classes with increased volume, one week going every single day. Damen continued to apply his wraps for him with the extra padding much to Nik's disgust. Laurent took note, that even with such close proximity, their skin never touched and he was grateful for that. Every Tuesday and Wednesday, Damen would sit with him at the cafe. Laurent in his own way got use to Damen's presence, he still wasn't completely comfortable with the idea of him. Which was the cause of another problem.

Unfortunately his sleepless night wasn't a one off thing. Most of his thoughts at night were now occupied with one thing. What to do with Damen? Even though Damen had admitted to him that yes, he did like him, Laurent still found it hard to believe. It didn't sit well with him, no one liked him. There were other nights when Laurent turned over the idea that Damen did actually like him. Which as ridiculous as it was, seemed to be a thing. So what was he going to do? Accept his feelings? Push him into the non existent 'friend-zone', that he heard so many of his idiotic classmates moan about. Push him into on coming traffic?

Vannes had told him, more than once, that if he was uncomfortable, Damen was more than happy to be a friend to him. _'But for how long?'_ Laurent thought to himself. How long would Damen be happy with 'just friends', before giving up and walking away? He told himself that that's what he wanted. Somehow the thought of Damen walking away didn't sit well with him though.

Early in the mornings, when he had spent far too much time thinking and not enough time sleeping, he thought about embracing what Damen was. Should he just go along with Damen, pretend that he was normal? Attempt to be normal? Maybe he should just give it a go and see if it was all it was cracked up to be. He could always just tell him he wasn't interested after all.

At the end of his agonising two weeks of non sleep, Damen had asked for his number.

"No," Laurent said easily.

"Can I at least give you my number?"

"What for? I can't see why I'd possibly have a reason to call you?"

"Please?"

Laurent had looked over, and Damen had that horrible kicked puppy look. So he gave up with a sigh and handed his phone over. When he got it back he went through his very small list of contacts. He fully expected Damen to have saved himself under something as pretentious as 'beefcake' or 'hot stuff'. Instead he was surprised with the latest addition to his phone.

"Damianos," he said, he'd never heard of it.

"That's my full name."

"Damianos," he said again.

Laurent noticed that Damen seemed to beam with pure delight when he said his name. That day Damen offered to walk him home, Laurent let him, but only half way.

When he got home, the first thing he did was google the meaning of Damen's name.

' _To tame_ ' it said, also could mean ' _one who can tame_ '.

Laurent immediately got out his phone and sent Damen his first text.

**'The meaning of your name is sickeningly pretentious'**

Damen's reply came seconds later

**'u googled me! <3'**

Laurent never replied, but he found himself sleeping better that night.

…

The September break was approaching and Laurent found himself with a number of essays due. He wasn't too concerned, it was all in the syllabus and he was more than prepared. The majority of them were done and the only thing he really had left to do was to proofread over and over until he was satisfied. While his classmates struggled with last minute work, Laurent was at the cafe, hiding his studies from Damen, who was trying to peak at his work and guess what he studied.

Laurent found Damen's silly attempts to spy on his work amusing, so he made a point of not telling him. It was obvious that he was frustrated, but he had yet to make a real attempt at what he studied, instead he came up with absurd assumptions. Some of his more memorable guesses were 'morticians apprentice' and 'amphibian investigator'.

"Wrong again," Laurent said, after Damen's latest guess of 'conspiracy generator'.

He was going through his final check of an essay he had printed out, he kept the edge of his paper curled so that Damen would not be able to see his study on identifying insurance scams in small businesses.

"Hmm," Damen said.

He always managed to keep a straight face when coming up with his latest ridiculous thought. Laurent found it easy enough to keep a straight face, but in all honesty, he genuinely wanted to know what Damen came up with next.

"Chicken catcher?"

Having just finished the paragraph, Laurent calmly turned his pages over and glanced over at Damen.

"Why on earth would I need to attend university for that?" Laurent said.

"I imagine there would be a lot of strategy involved. Not to mention the psychology of getting inside of a chicken's head."

Conspiracy generator Laurent could deal with, chicken psychology he could not.

"I'm going home," Laurent said, shoving his paper back into his bag.

"I'll walk you."

"Of course you will," Laurent said, making sure Damen saw him roll his eyes.

He returned his cup to the counter, as he always did, and gave Vannes a brief nod of thanks, she winked and gave him a thumbs up. In return he gave her a thumbs down and then together they left to walk down the street. They had barely made it to the end of the block when Damen started to talk again.

"You're an arts major?"

"Oh?" Laurent said, it was Damen's first serious guess, so he must have been positive he was correct, "Why's that?"

"The way you read, the whole aura you've got going on around you. The way you stare, wistfully into the sunset."

Around the word 'wistful' Damen had started to act very dramatic, Laurent increased his speed.

"You always wear dark clothing, I bet you write depressing poetry at night."

Laurent figured that Damen had clued in that he was wrong about his degree and had just decided to roll with it. He couldn't deny the dark clothing jab though, he was always covered head to toe in either black or various shades of dark blue. At the moment he was wearing black jeans, and an oversized dark blue sweater. He was however wearing a white undershirt that was visible because of the sweaters large neck line. Even his high tops were uniform black.

"I don't write poetry."

"You wear berets."

"I do not wear…"

"That heavy weight you carry on your shoulders."

"What?" Laurent said coming to a halt.

Damen continued to walk and spun around to face him.

"Here let me help you with that."

Laurent gave Damen a very clear ' _you are an idiot_ ' look, as Damen reached behind him and lifted the imaginary weight off his shoulders. He made a point of hefting nothing behind his back like one might carry a sack. Laurent started walking away, and Damen fell behind.

"Oh, god!" Damen said behind him, "I didn't realise it was the weight of the world."

Laurent increased his pace once again.

"No! Wait, please, take it back!"

Glancing back, Laurent saw Damen standing in the middle of the footpath, doing a very good impression of being crushed under an incredible weight. He thought of Atlas, holding up the skies, and thought Damen was doing a terrible job of it. When he saw Laurent looking, he made a show of falling to his knees under the imaginary weight. Laurent quickly ducked between two buildings and tried his best to hide the smile on his face. One part of his mind was mortified that he couldn't wipe the small from his face. Another part kept playing Damen's overly dramatic struggle on repeat.

Damen had followed him between the building before he had time to banish the smile. It was too late, he looked up and Damen saw his smile.

"I knew you could smile," Damen said softly.

The words were followed by Damen gently reaching a hand up and tucking Laurent's shoulder length hair behind his ear. He felt the tips of Damen's fingers burn across his cheek and the back of his ear. It felt as if he had left a trail of blistered, damaged skin in his wake. Horrified, Laurent realised that it was the first gentle skin on skin contact he had had in years, and it burned. The smile dropped from his face like it was never there.

"I didn't say you could touch me," Laurent said, his voice and eye contact steady, deadly.

Damen dropped his hand and quickly took a step back. His own playful smile from earlier replaced with a saddened frown.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"Obviously, you don't think at all! I've told you twice already not to touch me!"

"I'm so sorry."

"Just because I'm putting up with your presence doesn't mean I'm falling for your fancy. Don't be so delusional!"

Laurent found that he was starting to breath rather harshly and he thought that if he didn't get his breathing under control soon, he was going to choke on it. He wanted to stop but found that his mouth kept going.

"Your disgusting fascination with me has gone too far if you think you can touch me so easily. Your bumbling and embarrassing flirtatious attempts are sickening."

"Should I leave you alone for a minute?" Damen said, not in anger, or sadness, but in concern. Laurent's anger spiked to new levels.

"I never wanted you near me in the first place!" Laurent yelled.

Laurent glared at him, even though his brow was farrowed, he felt as if his eyes were popping out of his head. His hands were shaking at his sides and his breath was leaving him in small, painful puffs.

"Okay," Damen said softly. It was almost inaudible, it didn't help that he was looking at the ground.

Damen slipped out from between the two buildings and walked away. Laurent leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to regain some semblance of a normal breathing pattern. His chest hurt in a horrible way and he found that he couldn't even swallow, he felt like he was choking.

_'It hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS!'_

"Wait!"

Laurent ran out from between the buildings and looked left and right, looking for Damen. He found him not terribly far away, walking back in the direction they had come from. His shoulders were tense and his hands were clenched at his sides. He ran after him, quickly catching up to Damen's melancholic figure.

"Wait," he said again.

"Haven't you said enough?" Damen said, not turning around.

Laurent could tell by the sounds of his words that Damen's teeth were clenched.

' _So he can get angry?'_

"It's a defense mechanism," he found himself saying, "The last time I trusted someone, I…"

Laurent paused, not knowing what to say without saying too much.

"You got hurt?"

' _I got fucked up.'_ Laurent wanted to say, instead he breathed a soft 'yes'. He wanted to follow it with 'more than hurt', but he felt that he had said too much already.

"I deliberately say the words that I know will hurt the most. I can't help myself, because if you hate me, you can't hurt me."

Damen finally turned around, his face a miserable fallen thing so unlike his usual easy smile.

"I wont hurt you Laurent, not on purpose."

"I don't even know you."

"I'm trying to get to know you, would you let me?"

Talking to Damen's back was one thing, now that the man was facing him he found it too hard to speak. His mind was alight with further insults he wanted to let forth, it would be so easy to turn him away forever.

"Why are you so infuriatingly understanding?" Laurent said.

"It's who I am. You should get to know me too."

Laurent stared at Damen, trying to find a hint of a lie. Years of distrust made him think he was good at judging a persons character, but in that moment he wondered if he was finding the smallest flaw in someone to ostracise them with. As far as he could tell, Damen really was just a good person, a stupid person perhaps for liking him, but still good. He would never know if he truly was or not unless Laurent did as he said, and got to know him.

"Okay," Laurent said.

He had made his decision and he would go through with it.

"Okay?" Damen said.

"Hold out your hand."

Damen did so, cautiously, slowly, as if he was afraid Laurent was going to produce a cane with which to hit him with. Laurent stared at the upturned hand, looked at Damen's trusting face and swallowed down his own nerves. Before he could change his own mind, Laurent grabbed Damen's hand in his own, holding it tight. Unable to bear seeing the look on Damen's face, he turned and started to walk, dragging Damen along behind him.

"Are you… holding my hand?"

"Of course not," Laurent snapped, "I am merely using your hand to take you in the direction I want you to go."

"Really? It feels a lot like you're holding my hand."

The ease in which Damen slipped back into his joking persona was a mystery to Laurent. One minute he was a miserable husk of a man, the next he was acting like Laurent's harsh words never happened.

"Do you want me to stop?" Laurent asked, taking a chance to look back at Damen.

"Nononono."

"Then shut up."

Laurent lead them across the road, and dragged him along the path that ran beside the creek. He slowed his walk and tugged Damen forward until he was walking next to him instead of trailing behind him. They didn't say a word the whole time they walked, even though Laurent could tell Damen was itching too.

They reached the point were the path turned away from the waters edge and followed the street. It was usually the point where Laurent would bid his goodbyes to Damen and walk the rest of the way home alone. Instead he stepped off the path and continued to follow the waters edge. Without the path they had to step their way over tree roots and uneven ground. The creek bed at this point was lined with old fig trees, their large drooping branches and extensive root systems creating a different world.

"Where are we going?" Damen said at last.

"To get to know each other."

They finally reached the place Laurent wanted. He stopped under a large fig, it's roots curving in a gentle, fluid way. It was large and covered the area in a cool shadow. When he was a child, he had found this particular spot and thought of it as his own special place. As a teenager, it was a place to hide, now he was using it to hide again. He sat down on the cool ground and leaned back against the tree. He pulled Damen down by his hand until he sat next to him. He kept a suitable distance, which Laurent was grateful for, even though their hands were still joined.

They sat in silence, both of them enjoying the view of the creek and the gentle sounds of lapping water so close to their feet. The opposite shore was clogged with mangroves and dense with trees. Above the trees were a few peaking roofs, but if no one knew any better, it was hard to distinguish one was in the middle of a city.

Laurent turned their hands until the back of Damen's was pressed to the ground. He released his grip on Damen's hand, but didn't pull away completely. He let his fingers trail softly over the palm of Damen's hand and took a moment to focus on the difference between their hands. Damen's hands were large and his fingers thick and calloused, his own while not as large, were just as long. His fingers looked like the spindled legs of a spider next to Damen's.

"You know," Laurent said, tapping his fingers against Damen's palm, "That was the first time someone has touched me with affection in a very long time."

Since he was looking at Damen's hand, and not his face, the only reaction he could gauge from Damen was a slight twitch of his fingers. He kept silent, which Laurent was thankful for, and Laurent pushed has hand down onto Damen's. He spread his fingers, matching his hand to Damen's, before linking their fingers together and squeezing lightly. A fraction later, Damen squeezed back softly.

"Should I call you Atlas from now on?"

Damen scoffed next to him, a hint of a laugh. Laurent didn't look up, his gaze still focused on their joined hands.

"Atlas didn't carry the weight of the world," Damen said.

"No," Laurent said, cutting in, "He held up the skies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straight up, I just wanted to thank you all for the amazing amount of comments I got last chapter. It really blew me away I love you all so much!  
> Second of all, I'm not happy with this chapter, but I've been staring at it for three days it's not getting any better so I'll just post it. 
> 
> Thanks again and for those who have pointed out my mistakes keep doing it!


	6. Chapter 6

Thursday morning Laurent found himself at Vannes mercy. He was sure that his offhanded comment about Nik's use of rocket jumps had led to this. Vannes had managed to work them into almost every part of her routine. He had to remind himself not to speak so openly about classes with her. His legs were like jelly and he physically could not jump any more. Instead he did squats, which were still painful considering what his legs had already been through. The only thing that made him feel better, was the fact the everyone else in the class seemed to be having trouble as well.

When she told them to drop into a plank Laurent was relieved, knowing that it meant that the class would soon be over. The problem was, Vannes wasn't quite finished torturing them yet. When in the plank, she instructed them to raise their left arm and their right leg and hold it. It was as much a test of balance as it was strength. After thirty seconds she had them switch to the other side with right arm up and left leg out. Unfortunately, his left arm was much weaker than his right and he found himself slamming face first into the rubber mats.

Laurent had his suspicion that this was her intent, as she ended the class moments after he hit the ground. Laying on the floor catching his breath he couldn't decide if Vannes, or Nik were worse when it came to planks. At least Damen just let them finish with a simple one minute plank.

Gradually, he pulled himself up and instead of heading straight to the showers like he usually did, he stretched out. It was something else Damen had scolded him for, never stretching out at the end of class. He did it half heartedly, like he did his warm up stretches, but he could see the point in them. It helped calm his trembling muscles, especially his thighs and calves which were screaming after Vannes excessive use of rocket jumps. He didn't think he would be able to jump for a week, but still thought about attending a friday morning class.

When he was confident he wouldn't cramp upon standing, he collected his bag and made for the showers. Usually he had no problems grabbing a shower, but this time he found himself waiting on a bench as all three shower stalls were in use. He found sitting in his sweat drenched clothes disgusting, and for the first time considered Damen's advice on wearing different clothing. His sweat pants and long sleeved shirt hung from him as if he had been caught in the rain. When he was finally able to shower, he turned the shower almost completely onto cold and just let it blast against his red face.

It had been over a month since he had started the classes, and he had noticed changes in his body already. He could do push ups more easily and he didn't feel the strain quite as acutely as he did at the beginning. What was once an almost skeletal body was now showing signs of muscle. His skin however still burned red hot every time, and he sweated just as much. He felt jealous of some of his classmates who walked out with a light sheen of sweat. He however, had to wash his hair after every class as it was nothing more than a dripping pile of sweat.

By the time he was done in the shower and exited, the next class had already started. This time it was being led by Nik and he had to weave his way through the class. At the counter as usual, a bottle of water was waiting for him. He didn't want to assume it was for him, and instead waited for it to be handed to him.

"You forgot this," Vannes said, holding out the bottle of water.

"Thanks," he said.

As he went to grab it Vannes grip on it tightened and Laurent found himself unable to pull the slippery bottle from her firm grasp.

"Have you replied to him yet?"

"No," Laurent said, tugging at the water again.

"You can't just leave a man hanging like that. It's easy enough, yes or no."

"I'm still thinking about it."

She finally let go of the bottle and Laurent made to walk away.

"Don't think too long, the man's tying himself in so many knots I'm about to nickname him 'Pretzel'."

"I'll let him know later today."

"You better," Vannes said, pointing a finger at him, "Other wise next class I'm pulling you aside and turning you into my own personal bitch."

Knowing she would very much follow through with her threat he made a point of making sure he came up with an answer by the end of the day.

"I'll be sure to fill you in completely this afternoon."

Whether he wanted to or not, he would tell her. Having learned his lesson on trialing other coffee shops, he really couldn't drink coffee anywhere else. On the days Damen didn't sit next to him, Vannes did. Like Damen, he got use to her presence and found, that as extroverted as she was, she wasn't bad company. Mostly she complained about customers, and tried to convince him to go on morning runs with her on the days he didn't go to class. Although he continued to refuse, he was starting to wonder if it wasn't a completely bad idea.

The question she wanted answers to came down to a text message he had receive from Damen yesterday afternoon after they parted ways. He wasn't surprised that she knew about it, he wouldn't be surprised if the whole gym knew. He supposed he could only blame himself for the outcome. A week earlier he had agreed to himself to be more open with Damen. The problem was he hadn't drawn a line for the man, and holding his hand hadn't helped. Simply put, Damen had asked him on a date that Friday, to celebrate the mid-semester break. He had no idea what to do.

He had left the message unanswered and instead found himself staring at it when he had a free moment. Multiple times he typed out various different responses, some of them scathing, some of them kind. All of them were erased and he instead sent nothing. He also thought a lot about ringing Auguste and asking his opinion on the matter.

When he found himself reading the nine word message for what must be the hundredth time, he figured that calling Auguste was the best thing to do. He check the time, it was six thirty-five, and he knew that Auguste would be up and on his morning commute on the tram.

Before he could mentally talk himself out of it, he hit the call button and pressed the phone to his ear. He started his usual walk to the university whilst waiting for Auguste to pick up. The call only rang twice before it was answered.

"Hey, Little Lu, what's up?"

"I have a problem," Laurent said immediately.

Usually he would reprimand Auguste on his continued use of a very much out dated nickname. Skipping the pleasantries he felt it would be easier to jump right to it.

"What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay?"

Auguste's words were quick and panicked, and Laurent chastised himself for not articulating himself better. However he kept on with his train of not thinking and blurted out the first thing that came to his head.

"Someone likes me and I don't know what to do about it."

The line was silent, Laurent increased his pace realising he had probably just embarrassed himself. The thought was confirmed when he heard Auguste start laughing down the line.

"Stop laughing!" Laurent hissed, "This is a serious matter."

"Okay, okay," Auguste said, "I'm sorry, but, please tell me. Why is this a bad thing?"

"Because…" Laurent started to speak and then found himself pausing.

Why was it such a bad thing?

"Because nobody likes me! There must be something wrong with him. Actually, should I be concerned that as much as I try, and turn him away he keeps coming back? I said some horrible things but he keeps forgiving me. I think he's some kind of masochist, or has some other kind of fetish. In fact, I think I should be concerned. He's asked me out on a date and I have no idea what that even entails. He must be up to something, because there is no other reason someone might be interested in me."

He had fully expected Auguste to continue laughing at him. When he heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line he didn't know what was happening.

"I wish you didn't think so little of yourself."

"I… don't," Laurent said, stunned for a moment, "I put great effort into making sure no one likes me."

"Sure," Auguste said, his voice sad, resigned, "Okay then, first of all, do you like this guy?"

"Of course not!"

"So you hate him?"

"No!"

"Where does that leave you?"

"I don't know! This is why I called you!"

Auguste didn't answer and Laurent could tell it was because he was laughing again. At least this time he was polite enough to cover it instead of laughing outright.

"So you don't hate him, you don't like him, but…"

"But what?"

"Come on Laurent, you put people into one of two boxes moments after meeting them, 'like' and 'despise'. Don't you think it means something that you can't place the guy, also it sounds like he may have been around for a while now."

The line went silent and Laurent thought over his words. He wasn't completely wrong, as much as Laurent had tried to push Damen into the despise pile he could never go completely through with it.

"That's not true," Laurent said, "I also have a 'tolerate' and an 'ignore' box."

Auguste laughed softly, easily through the phone.

"But really Laurent?" Auguste said, his voice serious again, "Would it be that bad? I want you to be happy and to experience life. You've got to step outside of your own box you've put yourself in."

"It's safe in the box Auguste."

"I know it is Lu, but it's a lonely place to live."

Laurent didn't like to dwell on loneliness, it only hurt. Like it did all those weeks ago when he watched Damen with his friends. At the time he wished he was capable of such things. Now an opportunity to be normal was being offered to him and he couldn't reach out and take it.

"When are you coming home?" Laurent asked softly, changing the subject.

"We arrive on the twelfth of December, we'll go back on the twenty-second."

"Okay. Thank you, for listening to me."

"Anytime, you know that. Have you come to a decision?"

"Yes," Laurent said.

"Is it really that hard for you to admit you like someone?"

Without telling him, Laurent hung up the phone and shoved it into his back pocket.

He had made it all the way to his first class before he realised that Auguste hadn't said a word about his potential suitor being male.

…

Since it was the end of term, and he had already sent out all of his remaining classwork, attending class wasn't strictly necessary. Laurent found himself with a hand full of students who attended class to either keep up attendance or to learn about what they would be going over next term. Unsurprisingly the class was let out early and with nothing else to do, Laurent headed for the library to find himself something to read over the break.

He still hadn't replied to Damen's text message, even though he had reached a resolve he didn't know how to word it properly. His phone hung in his pocket like a large weight and he was overly conscious of it every time he moved. It was so distracting that he found himself reading over the synopsis of books more than once without taking anything in. He eventually left the library empty handed and made his way home.

He walked slowly, reworking his reply in his head over and over again. As usual when he reached the cafe, he turned into it and walked up the steps on automatic. By that point he had rewritten what to type more then seven times.

"Hey," he said to Vannes as he as always, put the correct change on the counter.

Not waiting for a reply, or even his coffee, he left the counter and went to sit at his usual spot. He pulled out his phone sitting it on the counter and opening it up to Damen's message once again. Even with all the different responses going through his head, he hadn't typed a single letter yet. Even typing out various different replies was better than where he was at now. He had come to a decision, but for once couldn't word it to his satisfaction. Usually what he wanted to say came easily. Even hurting someone with words was easier than this.

His thoughts were interrupted by Vannes sliding his coffee in front of him and sitting down next to him.

"Have you replied yet?" she said.

"I'm working on it."

"What the fuck dude?"

"I said I'm working on it."

He picked up the coffee, knowing it would be to hot, and distracted himself by uselessly blowing on it.

"Have you at least figured out if its a yes or a no?" she asked.

Not wanting to answer, Laurent risked burning himself by taking a tiny sip of his black coffee.

"I swear to God dude! I like you, but you can't do this to Damen! Why can't you just admit you like the guy!"

It was the second time someone had said something like that to him today.

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I'll go out with him."

"Well thank fuck for that!" she said with a laugh, " What are you waiting on then! Tell him!"

She was clearly overjoyed and Laurent almost wanted to smile at her happiness. There was a small bubbling feeling in his chest when he admitted that he would agree to go out with Damen. It was a strange feeling, coming from a smilar place that he felt his loneliness build from. Yet it didn't hurt, it felt light and freeing, like a deep breath of clean air.

"I'm still working on how to word it," he said.

He tapped the screen of his phone again, making sure the screen didn't lock. It was still on the bar in front of him, messages open on Damen.

"Oh for fucks sake," Vannes said, snatching the phone off the bar.

It took him a moment to process what was happening, but when he did it was already too late. Her thumbs flew quickly over the keypad and Laurent was sure that she had sent multiple messages.

"There," she said, slamming it down on the bench, "It's not that hard."

Not being game to look at whatever she had sent, he instead sent a glare in her direction. She was in the middle of rolling her eyes at him when the message tone for his phone went off.

"Holy shit! He's replied already!"

She made grab for his phone but this time he was faster and grabbed it before her. Nervously, he looked down at his phone and unlocked it.

Vannes had sent a simple reply, something that Laurent hadn't been able to do. It simply read:

_'Sure. When and where?'_

Damen's immediate response was:

_'O thank god! meet me infront of the cafe at 7 on Fri :) :) :)'_

He replied quickly with:

_'I will see you then.'_

"What's it say? What's it say?" Vannes said, bouncing up and down on her chair.

"None of your business," he said, sliding his phone into his back pocket.

To hide his grin, he took a sip of his coffee.

"Oh and by the way," Vannes said, taking her phone from her own pocket.

She never elaborated, but started to type away on her phone, her thumbs moving just as fast as before. A moment later his message tone went off again. He pulled his phone out, wondering what she possibly could have said to Damen in just a few seconds. Looking at his screen he was met with an unknown number and a message that said:

_'got your number fucker'_

Above that was the message Vannes had sent herself from his phone, a simple exclamation mark.

Instead of being annoyed, he was impressed.

"How did you manage to send yourself a message in that short amount of time?"

"Let's just say, in high school, I got very adapt at sending my then girlfriend messages in the middle of class. Considering the content, I had to do it fast."

Looking down, Laurent let his hair fall over his face to hide his smile. Quickly, he saved Vannes number and name into his phone.

…

After spending an embarrassingly large amount of time working on his outfit, Laurent arrived outside the cafe. As it was a Friday night the cafe was still open, the sounds of numerous people talking from inside drifting out onto the street. He was nervous and hated that he was, he didn't like how vulnerable it made him feel. He also didn't like that he was the first to arrive.

If anything, Laurent was punctual, and hated when other people were not. Having timed his arrival perfectly, he was checking his phone constantly, watching as the minutes ticked by.

At five past, Laurent heard Damen call his name. It came from behind him and he turned to see Damen walking down the steps of the cafe towards him. He had a large easy smile on his face and in the moment he felt his heart rate pick up.

A week earlier when Damen had said that Laurent should get to know him, he found himself thinking about Damen a lot. Because he had already been getting to know Damen as much as he tried to ignore it. Damen was carefree and joking. He was simple and straight forward, honest and a little too trusting. He liked it when people liked him, and he liked to make others happy. He was strangely perceptive and that more than anything was probably what made him admit that he did indeed like Damen.

Damen who was making his way towards him, his smile genuine and blissful.

"I had almost convinced myself you wouldn't come," Damen said, his smile somehow widening.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he held it up, showing Damen the time.

"I was precisely on time, you however are five minutes late."

Damen laughed and held out his hand, "May I?"

During the past week, they had held hands a few times, mostly in private, if not briefly as they walked down the street. He was hesitant at first, but eventually reached out and grabbed his hand. He was still working on the whole 'being touched' thing, but found that Damen was a willing experiment. For the most part he let Laurent take the lead, but occasionally, like now, he asked.

"Where are we going?" Laurent asked.

"We're already there!" Damen said with a cheerful smile.

He gave Laurent's hand a small squeeze and pulled him back towards the open door of the cafe.

"We're going to the cafe I sit at every afternoon? Not very imaginative."

Damen chuckled and continued to pull him inside. They stopped on the balcony, close to Laurent's usual spot, hovering outside the doorway.

"I thought, it would be easier on you if we went some where you are more familiar with. Vannes is here with her girlfriend and the cafe is a safe environment."

Laurent sent a nervous glance to the doorway. Like most old houses of it's age, it had a clear long hallway straight from the front door to the back. He could clearly see the small crowd of people gathered at the back of the house. It would be the first time he would be in such a crowd. He was use to shutting himself off socially and ignoring crowds. This would be the first time he would be engaging in one.

"Hey," Damen said, pulling at his hand slightly. Laurent redirected his attention back to Damen who was still smiling at him. It was a more subdued smile compared to his large teeth filled one from earlier. "We don't have to go in, we can go anywhere you want."

"No," Laurent said, squeezing his hand slightly, "We're going in."

Taking a deep breath, Laurent led the way into the cafe and walked passed the various rooms towards the back entrance. It was like when he decided to attend the boxing classes, he would never get anywhere if he didn't push himself. He would have to push himself with Damen too, and with social situations. It was frightening and confused him, but he could freely admit that he did like Damen, and if Damen was willing to put up with him, then maybe it could all work out. Maybe he could be normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early updates because it was finished and I'm busy tomorrow!  
> I think I like this chapter a little better than the last but still think it's lacking.
> 
> Next chapter will be all about the date and I hope you guys like it.
> 
> Once again thank you for the comments and the kudos. I love and read every single one, sometimes multiple times.
> 
> Thank and love you all.


	7. Chapter 7

While there were less people crowded into the back yard than Laurent first thought, he was still uncomfortable. He found himself leaning closer to Damen which he was sure the man was mighty smug about. However, even as uncomfortable as he was, the atmosphere was light and easy. The back yard was lit with a warm light, a string of small lateens lit the tiny stage. Seating was scattered but most people looked happy enough to stand.

After initially leading the way out the back door, Laurent stilled and Damen took over. Damen led him through the crowd and to a table in the back right corner. There were already three people sitting there. He recognised Nik and Vannes, next to Vannes was another woman, she was slightly taller than Vannes and her hair was pastel blue. Vannes hand was resting lightly on her thigh which suggested this was her girlfriend.

"You look like you're about to puke," Vannes said, blunt as always.

It was a possibility.

Laurent didn't reply and instead tried to make himself look more confidant than he felt. He let go of Damen's hand and took a seat at the table facing Vannes. Damen sat between him and Nik who was very pointedly ignoring him. Laurent quashed the desire to stir him up, it would be a reaction to his own nervousness. It wouldn't do him any favours with Damen to tear into his friends.

"This is Talik, my girlfriend," Vannes said.

"Hello," Talik said, extending her hand across the table.

Laurent stared at it stunned for a moment before he realised that she was offering a handshake. It was beginning to get awkward so he slowly reached out a hand. It was probably the most pathetic handshake to have happened, but it happened. Dropping his hand under the table, he grabbed at Damen who accepted his hand softly. He put the speed in which he was suddenly sort comfort from Damen down to the unfamiliar situation.

"Aww, I'm so proud of you," Vannes teased.

"Shut it."

It was odd, but the small amount of teasing helped him relax.

Damen reached across the table and grabbed a piece of paper from in front of Vannes. He passed it across to Laurent who realised it was a menu.

"They do food here if you're hungry. No meals, mostly just finger food. We usually pick one each and just share," Damen said. Laurent nodded and looked through the options. "If you don't want to do that, or you want something more substantial we can go somewhere later."

"I could eat," he said.

"Cool, do you want something to drink? I'm sure Vannes will make you a coffee if you asked nicely."

"Fuck off I'm not working!"

Damen and Vannes launched into a friendly argument, one that sported a lot of swearing on Vannes part. Talik caught his eye and smiled at him in a way that suggested that this was a common thing. Laurent looked down, and instead focused on the menu.

The menu offered a range of different finger food. They were imaginative with things Laurent would never think to combine, one that caught his eye was called 'sweetmeats'. It was described as sections of dates, pushed into cubes of brie, wrapped in prosciutto and grilled with light seasoning. It was a strange mix but the idea of it seemed interesting. He found his mouth watering at the thought.

He wasn't one to eat out, the most was a hastily bought sandwich on a day he was less organised. He never really thought he was missing out on anything, but reading through the list of different foods made him realise that he was, possibly, missing out.

"See anything you like?" Damen asked.

He was so focused on the menu and his hunger, that he hadn't realised that Damen and Vannes had stopped arguing.

"This one," he said, pointing at the sweetmeats.

From there everyone else made their own requests and they all piled their money on the table. Nik was the one that offered to make the order, grabbing the pile of money and walking away. In the whole interaction, Nik never once looked his way or acknowledge his existence.

"Don't mind, Nikandros," Damen said. "He thinks he's my big brother sometimes."

"He doesn't bother me."

Damen just hummed and put the menu back in front of him, flipping it over to reveal a drinks menu.

"Do you want anything?"

"What're you having?" Laurent said, not looking at the menu.

"Probably a beer, if that's alright?"

Laurent had no idea why Damen was asking him if he could drink. He wasn't one to drink himself but he had no problems with anyone else drinking. Maybe Damen didn't want to do something he thought Laurent might not like.

"I'll have one too," Laurent said. Because he thought, why not? He had no intention of getting drunk, but if he was going to engage in this kind of situation he may as well go the whole way.

"What would you like?"

Laurent glanced down at the menu, had no idea what he was looking at, and instead asked Damen to surprise him. The request to surprise him seemed to please him as Damen stood up with a happy smile.

"He's like a puppy that's just been told he's a good buy," Vannes said.

"I think he stumbled as he got up," Talik followed.

"I think he's doing quite well," Laurent said.

"He speaks!" Vannes gasped.

They managed to engage in small conversation until Damen reappeared placing a dark bottle in front of Laurent with a black and yellow label. Damen sat back down next to him and Nik returned moments later while Laurent was still looking at the bottle. He wanted to ask what it was, even though he would have no idea what he was told. So he decided to trust in Damen's decisions and took a small sip from the cold bottle.

The first thing he noticed was that it was bitter, different from the bitter he was use to with black coffee. The liquid was thick almost like syrup and sat heavily on his tongue. After he swallowed he noticed more flavours in the after taste. It reminded him of coffee and dark chocolate, it was almost creamy but there was still that lingering bitterness. He took a larger sip and enjoyed the flavours more heavily.

"It's good," he said to Damen.

"It's a stout," Damen said, looking at him with that same easy smile.

"I like it," he said. Realising that everyone was looking at him, including Nik, he looked away feigning interest in the empty stage.

"When does the band start?" Damen asked, directing attention towards Vannes.

"Ugh, it was suppose to be eight but they forgot their main amp and had to go back. So probably about eight-thirty instead."

From this Vannes launched into a complaint about unprofessional behaviour in independent artists. Stating that if they didn't take it seriously it was nothing more than a hobby. Damen whispered to him that the duo that were to perform that night were regulars and it was the first time they had messed up. Laurent stayed on the outside of the conversation and slowly drank his beer. He denied a second drink when Damen offered, instead going with water. Since he didn't drink, then beverage left him feeling light.

When the food arrived, Laurent was eager to try his own selection. As much as he wanted to dive right in, he looked at what everyone else had ordered. Nik had ordered spiced chicken wings with a blue cheese dip that was so strong Laurent could smell it from the other end of the table. Damen had chosen seasoned beef skewers with a peppered garlic drizzle. Vannes had gone with salt and pepper calamari with a tartare sauce. Talik's pick were beer battered chips with a sweet chilli and aioli sauce, something that everyone could enjoy which is why Laurent figured she had gone with them.

"Okay, rules guys," Damen said because they could eat. "No double dipping, and this includes sticking your fingers in the sauce," Laurent took in that Damen was looking between Talik and Nik when he said this. Nik looked unfazed, Talik managed to look guilty. "If there are uneven numbers then the remaining goes to the person who ordered it."

"Yeah whatever, let's eat," Vannes said, waving Damen off.

Laurent immediately skewered one of the sweetmeats with a toothpick and popped it into his mouth. The flavour was strong and overwhelming, the salt of the prosciuitto   
mixed with the sweetness of the dates, while the creaminess of the brie coated his tongue. It was an experience in itself and Laurent thought he could eat an entire serving of it himself.

He immediately skewered another and brought it up to Damen's face, getting between the beef skewer that Damen had halfway to his mouth.

"Eat this," he said, eager from someone else to try it.

It shocked him too late that what he had done was a somewhat intimate gesture. To his credit, Damen leaned froward like it was nothing and took it into his mouth slowly. He chewed, seemingly savouring the flavours as he did.

"It's certainly different," Damen said, turning to Laurent was a smile, "But it's a good different."

Nik made a disgusted sound, and as a direct result, Laurent plucked the beef still in Damen's hand and brought it to his mouth. He kept his eye on Damen as he pulled a piece of meat from the wooden stick and chewed it softly. The flavour of the soft meat exploded in his mouth and in front of him Damen swallowed noticeably. So focused on annoying Nik, Laurent hadn't really thought about what he was doing.

"Alright you two cut it out," Vannes said. "I want to be able to eat my food."

Laurent looked away and ate the rest of the beef without looking at Damen. With the distraction of food Laurent found that it was easy enough to forget what he had done. Having lived so long on basic food he was eager to try everything in front of him.

The chicken wings weren't too spicy and were perfectly moist, strangely Laurent found that he liked the dip more than the actual wings. The calamari was soft under the crispy batter and not at all chewy. And of course the beer battered chips were a nice thing to eat causally between the other food. All of it was delicious, but Laurent found himself going back to the sweetmeats more than anything.

It was a strange date in Laurent's opinion. It was more of a social outing with friends than a date. It was obvious that it was something the four of them did often enough and Laurent was just an added person. It was good in a way, because Laurent in no way felt obligated to do anything that might be entailed in a date. It was casual and warm and the food was good. This was Damen's way of making Laurent feel welcome in his life.

"Look who finally showed up," Vannes said, pointing at chip at the direction of the stage.

Everyone turned to look as two people lugged a speaker onto the stage and hastily started to plug it in and arrange all of their leads. More interested in the food than the unknown band, Laurent turned back and placed the last of the sweetmeats into his mouth. It wasn't as hot, and the cheese no longer as gooey, but still enjoyable.

With the food finished Damen stood up to get another drink and Laurent requested another beer. The small light headed feeling he had gotten from the last was gone with his belly full of food. He genuinely enjoyed the drink and was finding himself relaxing more. There were still more people around than he was use to, but Damen was right that he felt comfortable at the cafe. Talik was generally quite but enjoyable company when she did talk, and he was getting more use to Vannes. Nik continued to ignore him and more often than not stayed out of any conversation that didn't involve Damen.

The band, a male and female duo had just started doing a sound check when Damen returned with their drinks. They were an acoustic duo, the man playing an acoustic guitar while the woman played a violin. It didn't need much amplification due to the small venue, but it helped to make the instruments sharper. The small crowd started to mill closer to the stage, blocking off the view from their current seating. As much as he craned his neck, he couldn't see much.

"Do you want to get closer to the stage?" Damen said, handing him his drink.

Laurent nodded standing up. His hand fell easily to Damen's and he let himself be led through the crowd. He pressed closer to Damen as they made their way through until they reached the fence that bordered one side of the stage. Damen leaned up again the fence and pulled Laurent up to stand in front of him. He was close to the stage and with Damen behind him he was mostly separated from the crowd.

It wasn't long before the duo started to play. It was certainly an intimate affair and Laurent found himself wondering if this duo would ever be able to move on from small gatherings. To him the soft acoustics and the way they moved with each other would be lost on a larger audience. The vocals were soft, and mostly sung by the male guitarist. But the moments Laurent liked the most was when the two of them sang together. Joining in perfect harmony, their voices were stronger than the instruments they were playing.

Forgetting the people around him, he leaned back against Damen and enjoyed the music. He felt the way that Damen went to hold him closer and stopped himself. Without looking at him or saying a word, Laurent grabbed Damen's arm and put it around his shoulder. To him the crowd was no longer there, suddenly there was no one but Damen, himself and the band.

At that moment, he was happy that he had accepted Damen. The weight of his arm around his shoulders and the press of him against his back was a comfort he hadn't realised he was missing. Human contact had been deprived from him for so long, by his own doing and with the help of others, to the point that he was scared of it. But it didn't have to be bad, and he was just starting to realise that.

He was thankful that it was Damen who had helped him realise this. He was still scared that Damen would want more than he was willing to give. But from what he knew of Damen so far, is that he would help him through it and not push too far. He just hoped that Damen would put up with him long enough.

The thought of Damen leaving him hurt. Wanting to keep him close as long as he could, he reached up and threaded his fingers into the hand resting on his shoulder. Damen leaned into him closer, resting his chin gently on top of Laurent's head. He closed his eyes and blocked everything out, even the music. The contact hurt, but for the first time, it hurt in a good way.

The spell was broken when the band finished their set and the crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause. Laurent jolted out of his thoughts and subconsciously pulled away from Damen. The crowd began to disperse, some going to get more drinks, others heading out of the venue completely.

"Did you like them?" Damen asked, still behind him.

"I liked the harmonies."

"I like them too, but I'm a sucker for acoustic music myself."

He pulled away and turned back to Damen, who as always had a warm smile on his face. If he hadn't spent the night with other people Damen was familiar with, then he never would have noticed that this particular smile was something reserved just for him. When Damen smiled at him it was like he was looking at something separate from the rest of the world. Like he was seeing something special and that he saw something in Laurent he couldn't see. It was almost like he was holding a secret that he wanted to share, but it was far to precious to talk of.

It made his heart thumb once, suddenly, and he felt like his whole body was thrust forward with the feeling it was so strong. He could feel the heat rushing to his face and before Damen could see it he turned around and ran his eyes over the crowd. The bottle of beer was still in his hand, half empty and now warm. He was so entranced with the music and the feeling of Damen that he had forgotten about it. He drank it anyway, finding that the flavours were still enjoyable even if it was warm.

While looking through the crowd he focused on the table where they had been previously sitting. Nik was gone, but Vannes and Talik were still sitting there, enthralled with one another. They were kissing each other and even from a distance Laurent could see how tender it was. It was surprising to him that Talik was the one to be leading it. While Vannes was loud and outspoken, Talik was quiet and happy to sit by her side. But while they were together, it was Talik that took control.

He found himself back in his old frame of mind, wishing he was capable of such things. It was odd because whilst previously he had yearned to be normal in a social setting, he had never thought about anything beyond that. He wondered what it would feel like, to kiss someone so openly in public. He found himself thinking of the kisses that he had received, none of which were enjoyable or wanted. In his mind he felt the brush of whiskers against his lips and the sharp taste of spirits in his mouth. He felt sick at the thought and pulled away from Damen, the bottle suddenly heavy in his hand and falling to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Damen said instantly noticing, he reached out, but never touched him.

"Yes," Laurent breathed, even as he continued to pull away. "I think it's time I went home."

"Okay," Damen said, a look of worry in his eyes. "Would you like me to walk you?"

Laurent didn't want him to, but walking home alone with nothing but his thoughts seemed worse. He was torn between telling, Damen no, and accepting his proposal.

Thankfully, Damen made the decision for him by gently grabbing the material of his sweater in his fingers, their skin never touching, and leading him out of the cafe. He let himself be lead out, glad that Damen had taken the initiative.

Damen let him go once they were out onto the street. Even though they were previously outside, the cluster of people had made the air warm and thick. Out on the street the air was cooler and he felt himself thinking clearly.

"Are you okay?" Damen asked again.

"Yeah," Laurent said, rubbing his face. "I just thought of something I didn't want to think of."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!" Laurent said, much too harshly. He took a moment to centre himself and realised just how harsh he had been. "No," he said again. "Not right now."

"I'll walk you home," Damen said, leaving no room for argument, and starting off down the street.

Laurent followed slowly, his mind a muddled mess. Weeks earlier, he would never have allowed such a thing. Now he found himself stumbling behind Damen. He was annoyed that such a simple thing as a kiss had ruined the night for him. He had been enjoying the night up until that point. The start of the night was stilted but the food, the casual conversation and the band had been the most fun he had had since he was a child. He was silly to think that he could heal himself so easily.

Feeling lost, he caught up with Damen and linked their hands. The ease in which it happened still scared him. How quickly he had accepted Damen's presence as comfort scared him. He was scared that Damen would feel smothered by him, but he couldn't pull away. Now that he knew how it felt, he wanted nothing more than Damen's hand in his. They walked in silence, hands linked, with nothing but the sound of the water to accompany them.

While they walked, Laurent managed to push his intruding thoughts to the edges of his mind. They were still there, but distant, like an annoying whisper in a movie theatre. It distracted from the movie at first, but was now something ignorable. He was pulled from his thoughts when Damen stopped walking.

They had reached the bend in the creek, the point that Laurent normally said good bye to Damen, or they followed the river bed. Damen didn't know where to go from here, and it was up to Laurent where they went.

"Come on," Laurent said, pulling Damen up the street.

"Are you sure?" Damen said.

"I'd rather not be alone right now."

The silence continued, and Laurent was wondering if maybe he was dragging Damen along. He couldn't think that anyone would want to hang around with someone like him.

"You can leave if you want," Laurent said, his grip loosening.

"No," Damen said, renewing the hold of their hands. "I'll see you home."

He was almost hoping that Damen would leave, he didn't know if it would be easier or worse with him around. He did like Damen, and he was just starting to realise how much. Liking him made it harder though, because the more he liked Damen the less he wanted to hurt him. Not that his attempts at hurting Damen in the past had worked. The intruding thoughts pushed their way back into the fore front and Laurent found himself gripping Damen's hand tighter.

More than anything he wanted to remove the memories from his mind. The image of Vannes and Talik kissing so easily and sweetly were mixed with his own memory. He felt like he was tainting their relationship, thinking of such things. He wanted the memory gone, and the first thing he thought was to replace it with a different memory.

Immediately he stopped walking and pulled at Damen's hand until he stopped too.

"Kiss me," Laurent said.

As he expected, Damen moved forward, bringing their bodies together. He brought his hand up, resting it on the back of his neck, Damen's thumb lightly brushing his cheek. He moved forward and instead of pushing their lips together, he pressed a kiss to his forehead. Laurent felt his heart flutter at the motion and a brief spike of disappointment.

"That's not what I meant," Laurent said in a whisper.

"I know," Damen said, he lips brushing against his forehead. "But I don't think now is the right time, I don't think you're ready."

"Shouldn't I decide that?"

He intended to make the words scathing, but they came out quiet, almost desperate.

"Yes, but it's not just up to you. I'm not ready for that either."

Laurent hadn't taken a moment to consider Damen's feeling on the matter and immediately felt guilty. He thought this was the way Damen wanted things to go.

"Don't you want to?" Laurent said.

"Of course I do," Damen said, his thumb stroking his cheek again, "But not until you really want to."

It was strange, because anything that was holding him back was broken down by Damen's words. At first he wanted to erase a memory, but when Damen spoke he found a different reason. He wanted a new memory, not to erase another, but to end what was otherwise a good night perfectly.

"I want to," Laurent whispered. "I want to after what you just said."

He pulled himself closer, his lips resting against Damen's cheek.

"Kiss me," he said again in a whisper.

"I want to," Damen said, his lips brushing against his own cheek.

He felt a small shudder run through his body at the feel of Damen's lips. Like before his heart thudded heavily in his chest and it was all because of Damen.

"I want you too. I really want you too."

"Are you sure?"

"Please," Laurent said, finding Damens hands and squeezing them tight.

Finally Damen leaned in and pressed their lips together. He immediately froze, and Laurent had to wonder what it was like to kiss a lifeless doll. He pulled back with a gasp and took in Damen who was looking down, his hands loose in Laurent's.

"That bad, huh?" Damen said, unable to look up.

It wasn't bad, not at all, his lips still tingled with the small press of Damen's lips to his. He tightened their grip again before answering.

"Terrible," he said, their lips still close. "You should try again."

"Oh?" Damen said, a smile reappearing on his face.

He leaned forward again, but instead pressed a small kiss to the side of his mouth, directly at the edge, more on his cheek. From there he moved to the side and brushed their lips together, then he pressed their lips together again and this time Laurent pressed back softly, timidly.

Laurent felt a shock run through his body at the feeling.

"How was that?" Damen asked, their faces still pressed together.

"Awful," Laurent said with a quite breath. "Keep trying."

Damen started by brushing over his lips, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth and then moving onto his cheek. The whole time he let his thumb brush over his opposite cheek gently. Then he made his way back down and pushed their lips together with the slightest bit more pressure. Laurent pressed back again, and when Damen pulled away he felt the way their lips pulled against each other.

"And that?" Damen said.

"The worst," Laurent breathed.

Damen let out a breath of a laugh and his hand move from his cheek to brush through Laurent's hair.

"Maybe I'll try again another time," Damen said.

"Another time?" Laurent said, wanting nothing more than to pull Damen back to him.

"Another time," Damen said, pulling away. Laurent felt disappointed, almost at the point of angry. "We're not ready."

 _'We're'_ Laurent thought.

Once again he thought about how he wasn't thinking about how far Damen wanted to go. Just because he was obviously interested didn't mean he was ready himself. He enjoyed the kiss, but agreed that that was enough.

"What're you going to do during your break?" Damen said.

The sudden change of subject made Laurent laugh softly.

"Read, review," he said when he was ready. "Why?"

"Well, there is this place in the city, full of second hand books, and I wouldn't mind going there with you."

Feeling selfish, Laurent kissed Damen, right on the edge of his mouth like he had done earlier.

"I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was finished so I thought I'd just post it now!  
> I took some liberties with sweetmeats and made them something else.   
> Also dates and brie wrapped in prosciutto is absolutely delicious and everyone should try it. In fact all the food I described is delicious.
> 
> Thank you to all those who continue to comment and all the new people too.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope I see you all next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

Dragging his bag behind him, Laurent made his way through the house. Finding it too much effort to make it up to the bedroom, he fell face first onto the couch. His eyes ached and he rubbed at them relentlessly. With a large yawn he stretched out and got as comfortable on the couch as possible. He was content enough to sleep on the couch, anything else was too much bother.

Just as his eyes were starting to drift shut his message tone went off, vibrating up his leg and shocking him out of his rest. Digging into his pocket he pulled out his phone and looked at it at with heavy eyes. He wasn't surprised that it was from Damen.

'No coffee today?'

When his class had finished, he found himself too worn out to walk home. Instead, after a trip to the library he had taken the bus home. It wasn't like him, but after a morning boxing class and returning to University after a two week break, he couldn't face the walk.

'Bring me some.' Laurent replied. He did miss the coffee, but more than anything, he wanted to lay down.

"On it ;)'

He hadn't expected to be so utterly worn out when he returned to school. He had spent two weeks away from school. Instead of spending his time reading and reviewing as he had intended, he had ended up spending a large amount of time with Damen.

On the night before his first day of his break, Damen had asked to take him to a book store in the city. Two days into his break, on a Sunday, he had met with Damen.

Laurent was usually one to buy his books brand new, he liked how pristine they were. He liked to keep his books clean and undamaged. So visiting a secondhand book store was never something that he thought to do. He went with Damen because he wanted to spend time with Damen, not because he wanted to visit the store it self. When he arrived at the bookstore, Damen's hand in his, he wished he had discovered the store himself.

The moment he stepped into the store and the door shut behind him, he felt like the rest of the world was cut off. The store was located on a busy road in the middle of the city, but there was no hint of a sound. He imagined it was what a library would be like back in time. It was silent and people talked in hushed voices, unlike modern libraries which were full of the sounds of clacking computers and the beep of self check outs.

The shelves loomed in front of him and he was hit immediately by the smell of books. Not the smell of fresh ink that he was use to, but with the small of age and dust. He was awe struck as he walked down the isles of books. He wondered at the purpose-built shelving, the overhead ceiling fans, the feeling of the books as he ran his fingers along a shelf of old books.

He made his way down the idles, completely enraptured with the amount of books that were presented to him. It was bigger than the largest bookstore in the city, it was bigger than every library he had ever been in. He had never expected such an amazing thing to be in the middle of his city.

He had almost forgotten about Damen until he felt a squeeze at his hand. He had turned to Damen with a smile, almost giddy.

"This isn't even the best part," Damen had said.

Without another word, Damen led him to the very back of the store. In the back corner was a worn out staircase that lead upwards. Damen lead him up and he was presented with a beautiful room. It was painted in a deep red, and the book shelves weren't cheap made things like down stairs, but seemed to be antiques. There was a circle of chairs in the middle of the room, and in the centre, a chandelier hung from the ceiling. It was such a stark difference to the room down stairs, that it was almost another shop.

"This is where they keep their classics," Damen said softly in his ear.

Overcome, all Laurent could think to do was turn to Damen and kiss him again. It was only the second time they had kissed, and they were both surprised by the act. After his surprise, Damen had pushed back against him twice as hard.

They didn't kiss again, but Laurent happily spent almost two hours roaming the shelves and picking out a number of books. Damen trailed behind him with a smile, picking no books of his own, but happy enough to hold Laurent's hand. He smiled as Laurent babbled about certain books, and carried an arm load of books for him.

After the book store, with a bag full of books, Damen lead him to a hidden coffee shop not far away. It was down a small lane way that was closed off and quite. The walls were the bare stone of the heritage building, the lighting soft as the atmosphere. Despite it's hidden location there was a steady stream of people going in and out. Damen lead Laurent to a small booth at the back of the store and handed him a menu.

They spend the rest of the day in relative silence, drinking coffee and reading books. The silence was comfortable, both of them content enough with each others company. The only slip was when Damen rested a hand on his thigh casually and Laurent jerked so hard his knees hit the table. Their coffee cups rattling, liquid spilling over the side.

"I'm sorry," Damen had said, removing his hand. "It's just natural for me."

While Damen looked guilty Laurent managed to calm his racing heart. It was too sudden, if he had some warning he would have been alright.

"That's four times now," Laurent said, sliding his hand over Damen's.

Damen looked up confused.

"My coffee has suffered because of you four times now."

"I better buy you another one," Damen said, a large toothy grin spreading over his face.

"And a muffin," Laurent said with a smirk.

"And a muffin."

That was just the beginning of his two week break. The rest was a blur of dates and Damen. It seemed that every time they met, Damen showed him something new. Places he never knew existed in the city he lived in his whole life. He took all of it in with wide eyes and a small smile. And as always their was coffee.

Now that it was over, he found returning to university exhausting. He had never spent so much time relaxing and enjoying life. Now attending classes and studying was tedious and tiring. All he could think about was Damen and the feel of his hand in his.

It was with the thought of Damen's hands that Laurent closed his eyes with a soft sigh. Damen's hands on him, his lips on his face, kissing him everywhere. He could feel Damen's breath on his face, warm and soft. His hair brushing against his forehead.

"Shit," Laurent said.

He had fallen hard and fast and if he wasn't careful he was going to stumble. It was bad enough that he was distracted all day thinking about Damen. Now he was day dreaming about Damen touching him whilst trying to nap on the couch. He wanted Damen to touch him, but his mind wasn't always with Damen when it happened. He still pulled away at times, and he still had moments when he just couldn't talk. To his credit, Damen still appeared to be more than understanding.

Still Laurent was no fool to think it would last forever. Eventually Damen would get frustrated and start demanding things or worse, leave. Laurent knew this and had thought about what he was going to do about it. He figured that one day, he just wouldn't stop Damen and just let him do what he wanted. It wasn't ideal, and he didn't now how he would react until it happened. Maybe with Damen he would actually enjoy it.

His message tone went off and jumped at the sound as he was so absorbed in his thoughts.

'Im outside'

Standing, Laurent ran his hand through his hair and rubbed at his face. His eyes felt full of grit and his whole body was heavy as he made his way to the door. He opened the door to Damen who had a smile on his face as always. He was holding a tray of coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. Laurent waved him in, stepping back to make room.

"Hey," Damen said, giving him a quite peck on the lips.

Laurent was getting so use to the gesture when ever they met that he now leaned in for it. The first time he did Damen was so over joyed he kissed him again.

Laurent mumbled something that he wasn't even sure was actually a sentence. He made his way back to the couch and flopped back down on it.

"That bad?" Damen said, sitting down beside him, and passing Laurent his coffee.

"I don't even know why I'm so tried," he said. "I've only been back for two days."

"Too much fun on your break?"

"Please, my break was exceedingly dull."

"That's a shame," Damen said. "And here I went to the trouble of getting you a present. I don't think you deserve it though."

"Of course I do," Lauren said holding out his hand.

Damen threw the paper brown bag into his lap with a laugh then took a sip of his own coffee. Laurent had learned that Damen drank hazelnut mochas, something that he thought an insult to coffee. Even with the odd flavours, Damen still knew if a coffee was good or not. Something which he was grateful for considering the amount of different coffee shops Damen had taken him to over the last two weeks. He also bought Laurent an astonishingly large amount of muffins.

Which is why he wasn't surprise to find a blueberry muffin when he opened the bag. Laurent learn early on, that when Damen found that he liked something, Damen would shower him in it. It started with books and coffee, then muffins. Then quite places full of beauty after their trip to the cities modern art gallery. Damen liked to please and learn, and it just made Laurent fall even harder.

He pulled a piece off of the muffin and placed it into his mouth, completely conscious of Damen looking at him the whole time.

"Can I have some?" Damen asked.

"Hmm," Lauren mumbled around the food in his mouth, " If you're lucky I'll let you taste some later." With a sigh, Laurent leaned back and rested his hand on Damen's shoulder. "God I'm tired."

"Should I not have brought you coffee?"

"No, I still need to study."

Damen moved to wrap his arm around Laurent, his head falling to rest on his head. Laurent felt like he could fall asleep then and there, especially when Damen reached up and ran his fingers through his hair softly, playing with the ends. Laurent was amazed that Damen could make him feel so much so easily. It had only been a couple of weeks but Laurent ached at the thought of Damen not being there.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the side of Damen's jaw. He felt more than heard the way Damen sucked in a sharp breath. The feeling convinced him to move further, kissing a line along his jaw before reaching his lips. He pressed their lips together, the slight noise Damen made rumbled up his throat and Laurent felt it against his lips. Damen's teeth grazed against his bottom lip and he pulled away with a gasp. The sensation it sent through his body was extraordinary and scary.

Laurent grabbed his face and pushed forward again, brushing his lips lightly, breathing in each others breath. "Do it again," he breathed. Damen complied, pressing them together and tugging at his bottom lip. Laurent gasped again, softly and didn't pull away. Damen did it again and ran his tongue lightly over the bite.

It was startling and Laurent found that he enjoyed it, but was still terrified. He wanted to pull away as much as he wanted more. When Damen kept kissing him, he went with it and pushed against Damen's chest, pushing him down until Damen's back was pressed to the couch. He moved himself until he was sitting astride Damen, looking down at him as his chest heaved. He felt Damen's hands settle lightly on his thighs and he jolted at the touch. He expected Damen to be smiling, but he wasn't, he looked confused more than anything.

Laurent felt sick, wondering what he was doing wrong. He ran his hands over Damen's chest, noticing the defined muscles beneath his loose shirt. He leaned down, their chests touching and kissed along his jaw again, knowing that Damen had liked that. He moved along his jaw again to his lips and pushed against him hard and harsh. He dragged his teeth over Damen's lip, trying his best to replicate what he had felt. When he felt Damen groan he did it again.

_'He's going to leave you.'_

He sat up suddenly, shaking his head as if the action would move the thoughts from his head. Damen still wasn't smiling, instead his face was blank, his eyes unreadable. Diving back down he attached himself to Damen's mouth, not failing to notice that his lips were still. Sitting back up with a growl, his hands shook as he pulled his t-shirt over his and dropped it to the ground.

"Laurent?" Damen said softly, his hands still resting motionless on his thighs.

_'You're doing something wrong.'_

He ran his hands back up Damen's chest again, hoping that he was touching Damen in a way he liked. He grasped one of Damen's hands and placed it on his side, his muscles twitching and contracting at the feel of skin. He leaned down and pressed himself against Damen again, but found that his lips were still motionless. Damen pulled away, his eyes closed tight.

"Laurent," he said again.

"Shit," Lauren hissed pulling back, he couldn't figure out what he was doing wrong.

His whole body jolted with shock as he felt Damen's hand on his cheek.

"What am I doing wrong?" Laurent asked, the words sticking in his throat.

Damen's thumb brushed lightly across his cheek before he answered softly. "You're crying."

Laurent came back to himself at his words, and realised that he was shaking and that Damen was right. He felt the hot trail of tears sticking to his cheeks, his eyes hot and burning. His shaking hands wiped away the tears and he felt that he could break down completely.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He leaned down again but this time rested his head against Damen's chest, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest. "I'm a bit fucked up."

"No," Damen said, running his hand lightly up and down his back. "It's fine, you're fine."

They lay there, Damen's hand continuing to run up and down his back in a soothing manner.

"I'm sorry," Laurent continued to whisper, he said it over and over again while Damen tried to hush him.

Damen sat up, taking Laurent with him who was still pressed against him, his hands gripping at Damen's shoulders. As much as he was shaking he couldn't bring himself to pull away. He didn't think he would be able to move if he did. Damen reached to the floor and fumbled around before locating Laurent's shirt. With gentle words that Laurent couldn't process Damen detached them from each other and helped Laurent back into his shirt. As soon as his shirt was on Laurent gripped back onto Damen's shoulders.

"You're okay," Damen said, stroking his hair softly, his other hand resting lightly on his neck, "You're okay."

Laurent pulled away and crawled to the far end of the couch. He brought he knees up to his chest and made himself as small as possible.

"I want to stay, but do you need me to leave?" Damen said, righting himself on the couch.

Laurent shook his head and buried his face back into his knees.

"I'll give you a moment alone."

"Okay," Laurent said, his voice a harsh whisper.

Damen left and Laurent stayed as he was curled on the couch. The usually comforting smell of coffee still hung thick in the air. He leaned forward and grabbed his cup, the warmth spreading through his hands. It was a comfort, as was the small sip he took from the cup. His hands were still shaking, but less so. Instead he was starting to feel shame and embarrassment. He pressed one of his hands into his eyes, the action painful. With his face burning he put the coffee back down and rubbed both hands into his face. He was so ashamed of himself.

He didn't know how long he sat there like that but he was pulled out of his wallowing when he felt Damen return to the room. He hovered to the side of the couch, not sitting down seemingly waiting for a invitation.

"You can sit down," Laurent said, his voice finally starting to sound more normal. Damen sat down at a respectful distance and stayed silent. "I thought it's what you wanted."

Damen sighed and rubbed at his own face. "I do want it," Damen said. "But I want you to want it. I don't want you to force yourself. It's suppose to come naturally, it's suppose to feel good. God Laurent, I never want you to do something you don't want."

Laurent nodded again and in an attempt to distract himself he reached for the muffin in front of him. He picked at it, taking small pieces of it into his mouth.

"Thank you for the muffin," Laurent said.

Damen let out a small laugh and Laurent felt the mood lighten slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said again, holding a hand up when Damen went to protest. "I'm not good at… this. I don't always know what I'm suppose to do. I thought that- eventually you would get sick of me pulling away. I thought it was easier to just get it over with, because I didn't want you to leave."

"Oh Laurent," Damen said, followed by another sigh, "Please, please don't ever force yourself to do something for me."

Laurent was speechless, not knowing what to say. He had questioned himself constantly about what Damen wanted and what he was going to do about it. The road he had decided to go down had ended horribly and now he didn't know what to do next. Yet Damen was still the same, kind and understanding. It was frustrating that someone could be such a way. He had never met someone like Damen, the closest person he could compare him to was Auguste which settled in his stomach in an odd way. He was use to deceit, lies and manipulation. He was use to being told to be quite and act as he was told.

"I don't know what to do," Laurent said.

"You do what feels right to you," Damen replied.

Uncurling himself, Laurent moved across the couch and let himself rest against Damen as he had earlier in the day. "This feels right," he said. "I want you next to me."

"Can I hold you?" Damen asked.

"Yes."

Damen carefully wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. Laurent reflected that this was the exact position they were in earlier, before he had ruined it all. He was use to ruining things, he wasn't use to it ending like this. With acceptance and warmth, with understanding. It made him think about just how different he and Damen were and how he probably didn't deserve someone like Damen in his life.

"You can leave if you want," Laurent said, detaching himself from Damen.

"But I haven't finished my coffee yet."

Laurent scoffed and picked up his own coffee which was luke warm at best. He still sipped at it, rolling it in his hands when he was done.

"Did I tell you I'm from down south?" Damen said, breaking the silence.

"No," Laurent said, shaking his head, "But they way you pronounce certain words made me wonder."

Damen laughed and the sound of it made Laurent's heart flutter.

"Out of everything you notice, it's way I pronounce words," he said, laughter still in his voice. "Which words in particular?"

"Well, pronounce is one. Up here people say it like it's _pre_ nounce. Other words I've heard you say like vitamin and schedule gave you away."

"Most people don't notice," Damen said.

"Of course they notice, they just don't say anything. Us northerners always notice these things."

"And here I thought I slipped in seamlessly."

"No, we just accepted you," Laurent said with a smile. "Why did you leave?"

"Well, here we get into my dark past. I was in love, blindly in love, completely and utterly, and I thought she was the same."

"She?" Laurent said, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes she. Anyway, as it turned out, she has so far given me two nephews."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," Damen said, sipping his coffee again. "If that wasn't bad enough my father died around the same time and while I was mourning, my brother put plans into action and suddenly I was disinherited. I was mourning while he was scheming. In the end, I decided distance was the best and moved north. Thinking that I was going to loose myself in misery Nikandros came with me. I'm eternal grateful for him for that, without his help I wouldn't have been able to build the business that I have."

"I'll have to be nicer to him from now on," Laurent said with a smile.

"Oh don't worry about that. After Jokaste and the move he's been super protective. Hey!" Damen said suddenly digging into his pocket. "Want to see something funny?" He unlocked his phone and started to search through his photo album.

"Of course."

"Well, Nikandros has gotten big into body building in the last year, and recently he's started getting into competitions."

"Dear God, do I want to see what you're about to show me?"

"Trust me, it's hilarious," Damen said, turning his phone around to show him.

There in front of him was Nikandros posed on one knee, flexing his muscles all oiled up. His face was set into an open toothed sneer and it was completely ridiculous. He laughed at the photo openly and naturally.

"His neck has almost disappeared into his shoulders!" Laurent said still laughing.

"I know!" Damen said, starting to laugh himself.

Laurent leaned his head against Damen's shoulder again, both of them still shaking with laughter.

"That's just what I needed," Laurent said.

"To be honest, I look at it every now and then for a laugh. I'll never tell him though."

"Please let me be there the day you do tell him so I can witness it in it's full glory."

"You know I'll never tell him."

Laurent nuzzled his head into Damen's shoulder and Damen put his phone down on the coffee table and pulled him close again. The shame of earlier was still in the back of his mind, but it had lessened. He hadn't expected the outcome of the day, but he welcomed it. What had started as a disaster had ended in laughter and the two of them understanding each other a little better.

"Kiss me," Laurent said.

Damen complied, but like before, pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"That's not what I meant," Laurent said, channeling his words from weeks again. "But I'll accept it."

"Acceptable is it?"

All Laurent could do was let out a content sigh and lean in so far that he didn't think they could get any closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late and terrible but my self esteem took a large blow recently and I haven't been up for much.  
> The only reason I finished the chapter is because I want to keep my weekly update promise.   
> Honestly all I want to do is disappear into a hole for the rest of my natural life.   
> Sorry if it's a bit shitty cause I only checked it once.  
> Hope I'll see you all next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter about three quarters finished when I finally replied to all of your lovely comments.
> 
> Reading them all again with a clearer mind made me so happy that I pushed this chapter out for all you wonderful people.
> 
> I read over it a few times and I hope it didn't make too many mistakes.
> 
> It's funny how things go because this is the happiest I've been with a chapter for ages.
> 
> Thank you all again for you're beautiful comments and support.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

With the start of his final term of the year came the beginnings of summer. It happened suddenly as it often did, one night he's happy rolled into his doona, the next he's throwing it off in a ball of sweat. The earlier sunrise and the increasing heat were making his early morning classes harder and harder to attend. He was already finding himself covered in sweat at the end of classes, yet now it was a whole different matter. Now he felt like he had taken his clothes directly from the washing machine and shuffled into them. The clothing clung to him in such an uncomfortable manner and worst of all he was starting to chafe. He could never explain the shame he felt having to shuffle slowly between his classes at university.

So it was with great resolve that he gave in and bought himself a loose pair of basket ball shorts and an airy singlet top. It didn't have the same large arm holes that the rest of the class wore, but it was still the most skin Laurent would ever show in public. When he went in for a Tuesday morning class he felt like he was attending his first class all over again. His nerves were running high and he felt like there was a bout of panic right around the corner, but the thought of sweat drenched clothes weighing him down steeled his resolve. He scanned in, Nik as always on the counter ignoring his existence, and then he made his way to the bathrooms to change into his new outfit.

He tried to ignore that the outfit was an instant relief even so early in the morning. His jeans were already hot and uncomfortable, and even though he had taken to wearing cotton t-shirts in recent weeks, the singlet too was a relief. He knew that he was being too self conscious and that everyone in the class was focused on themselves and not him. Not yet ready to face the other people, he applied his wraps in the privacy of his own stall and then waited as long as possible before exiting the bathroom to hand his bag into the front counter.

Nik took one look at him as handed over his bag, let out a groan and said. "He's going to be impossible."

Laurent didn't have long to wonder what he meant when Damen jogged up the front steps next to the counter. Damen stopped at the sight of him, the bottle of water he was holding slipping from his hands and spilling onto the floor. Nik swore and left to get the mop, Damen continued to gawk and the water continued to glug onto the floor.

Laurent was highly amused that he had managed to cause this reaction from Damen, especially since a couple of weeks earlier Damen had seen him completely shirtless. Of course the context was completely different but it was still highly entertaining to him.

"I'll just go warm up," he said slightly, smirking at Damen.

Of course the two of them had kept their relationship separate from the boxing classes. It was just easier to keep it separate and as a teacher student relationship. Also the two of them agreed it wouldn't really look good in front of the rest of the class if they had their hands all over each other.

Damen made a pitiful attempt to get himself together while Nik mopped around his feet and Laurent made his way over to the mats. Damens reaction had totally over shadowed any fear he had of appearing in his new clothing. He did his stretches, which he was getting better at every class, reaching further, straining his muscles and teaching them. On top of that, he had finally started to skip in his warm up. It had taken him a few goes to get it right, but he was determined. In his first few goes he stumbled over the rope and tripped himself. On one occasion he had managed to get the rope caught in his hair that he had also finally tied up.

These days he could skip proficiently, he couldn't skip as fast as the rest of the class, but it was another step. It was something he couldn't do before and now he could.

While he skipped he caught sight of himself in the wall to wall mirrors. He had noticed the build of muscles in his body. He noticed it whilst showering and when dressing. He noticed it most when Damen would run a hand down his arms or his chest and he could feel the way his hand dipped and rose over the muscles. It was almost three months since he had started the boxing classes, and he couldn't believe the difference it had made in his body. He was still slim and gangly, but he was starting to look more toned, his shoulders looked broader and he was starting to fill out all over.

When Damen stepped to the front of the class and told everyone to put the ropes away, Laurent didn't fail to notice that he was staring at him the whole time. While it was no surprise to Laurent that Damen was interested in his body, it was still surprising how effective a change of clothing could be. The thought of driving Damen mad with an outfit made him smirk and while he looked at Damen he casually lifted his singlet and scratched his stomach, exposing a tiny sliver of skin that Damen stared at.

Figuring he should probably stop teasing Damen, especially since he was in no way ready to follow through with his flirtations, he dropped his hand and put on a serious face. In front of him Damen managed to pull himself together and started to lead the class.

As usual it started with a run down of the various different punches used in boxing, the correct footwork that went with each punch and the best way to use the force of ones body. Laurent admired the way that Damen was focused on the correct way to box, it wasn't just about fitness to him, he wanted things done the right way.

After the run down, Damen sent them straight outside for a hot lap. Laurent didn't just jog like some of the others did, he sprinted. He had made it a personal mission of his to be in the first five that finished. It was just a little something he did to keep himself striving for something. Last time he had finished seventh, this time he would not settle for anything less than fifth.

As he ran he noticed how much lighter and cooler he felt with his new outfit. He didn't feel weighed down or his movement restricted. He was able to move faster and with delight he ran and pushed his way to the front. It was a giddying feeling, once upon a time he hated to run, now he enjoyed it and the fact that he got better at it every day. Of course Vannes constant pestering to take early morning runs with her at least once a week helped, not that he was going to let her know that.

When he finished the run he didn't come in fifth but third. He was so proud of himself he shot Damen a quick smile who smiled back with a slight nod and then started yelling at everyone to do push ups until everyone was back.

After some more push ups and the dreaded rocket jumps - the had all ganged up on him for sure- they put their gloves on and hit the bags. While his fitness had improved all over, Damen still chastised him for overexerting himself when doing the combinations. Laurent always said he would calm down but he never did. Damen just didn't realise how much he needed to punch out every little frustration. He needed to punch his father over and over again. He needed to break his uncles nose. He needed to pound out his own frustrations with himself.

So he hit with twice as much force as he was capable of, he moved and twisted his body in ways previously impossible around the swinging bag. In his head he broke noses, shattered jaws and mangled teeth. Smug smiles were destroyed, wandering hands crushed. Damen lingered behind him and gave a warning that he ignored and just to prove his point, hit the bag so hard his arm jarred and he felt the impact shudder up his arm and make his shoulder ache.

It was during the last set of combinations that he hit the bag at the wrong angel and his glove twisted the wrong way. He felt a strange sharp pain in his left pinky finger and had to stop. Feeling dizzy he stepped away from the bags while everyone continued, he felt Damen's eyes follow him but he ignored his gaze.

He made his way over to the benches where he kept his water and slowly took his gloves off, his whole hand aching. It was a relief to have the gloves off but pain still radiated through his whole hand. It was obvious as soon as the gloves were off that his finger wasn't going the direction it was suppose to go. He thought for a horrible second that it was broken as it refused to move, just hung out at the wrong angle.

Still feeling Damen's gaze on him he quickly grabbed his water and drank. He didn't want Damen coming over and asking questions. So after a long drink he put his gloves back on carefully and moved back to the bags. He hit the bag softer, barely touching it, yet pain still shattered up his arm every time. Thankfully, the combinations ended and Damen yelled at them to do another hot lap. He took off, ignoring the pain and focused instead on finishing in the top five again.

He came in fifth, barely, as even though he was running the pain was still distracting. Back inside they started to do squats for as long as Damen deemed necessary, Laurent still had his gloves on, hiding his twisted finger. He was determined to finish the class no matter what. In his own mind he took it as a challenge to finish the class with a possible broken finger. He could work through the pain, it would only make him stronger.

It did become a problem though when Damen told everyone in the class to grab a kettle bell. He would have to take his gloves off and there would be no way Damen wouldn't notice if he looked close enough. He kept his gloves on while everyone else threw them aside, he kept them on when he grabbed his own kettle bell, a ten kilogram one, and made his way to the back of the class. It was only when he was hidden at the back that he took his gloves off and threw them to the ground.

He started at the swings, his hand aching and his finger sticking out, unable to curl around the handle. He was only on his third swing when Damen pushed his way to through the group to stand right in front of him. His eyes flashed with anger and he had never looked more imposing to Laurent than he had at that moment. It was the first time Laurent had seen Damen truly angry and it was directed completely at him.

"You, outside, now," Damen ground out.

Laurent dropped his kettle bell with a thud and stormed outside. Damen followed with a growl to Nik to take over the class. Laurent immediately crossed his arms and met Damen with a glare of his own.

"Show me," Damen said the second he was outside.

"Show you what?" Laurent said, his twisted finger hidden by his crossed arms.

"I'm not a fucking idiot, Laurent. Show me."

Laurent didn't know if he was scared or not. As large and imposing as Damen was, Laurent had never felt anything but warmth and kindness radiation from Damen. Seeing this new angry figure in front of him left Laurent lost and he didn't know whether to leave all together or fight Damen with words.

Damen must have noticed the war going on his head because he took a step back, ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath before talking. "Please."

Laurent was still defiant for another minute before finally giving up and holding out his hand. Damen took his hand gently, turning it around to look at it.

"Congratulations, you've dislocated your finger," he said letting go. "I told you, Laurent. I told you to know your limits and that you were going to hurt yourself."

Laurent tucked his hand back under his arm. "I'm sure you're happy with yourself for being right."

"Of course I'm not happy! But it's not just you Laurent. Do you have any idea what could have happened if you couldn't hold onto the kettle bell. What if it slipped, imagine the damage to someones legs or back being hit by a ten kilo lump of metal, what about their head? You didn't just endanger yourself, but everyone around you because you're too damn stubborn."

The idea had never occurred to him. He in know way thought that he would ever let go of the bell, no matter how much pain he was in.

"I'm not that weak," Laurent said, lifting his chin, looking at Damen as defiant as ever.

"Oh for fucks sake," Damen said stomping back into the building.

Laurent stayed standing on the footpath outside the building. He wanted to go back inside and continue to beat ruthlessly into the bag, not caring if he broke and dislocated every single finger. The more rational part of his mind, which was not in control at the time, told him he should gather his stuff and find someone to help with his finger. The angry part of his mind wouldn't hear of it, besides he didn't want anyone touching him right now.

While still torn between further injuring himself and getting help, Damen reappeared, a small first aid kit in his hand.

"I can fix it if you want, I've had enough myself. Knowing you, you'll probably ignore it for a few days and let it get worse."

Laurent stepped back with a sneer. "Think you know me now do you?"

"I know enough," Damen said, following him even as he continued to step back. "Now would you prefer me or a stranger?"

For the first time, Laurent wanted to hit Damen, and he wanted to hit him for the mere fact that he was right. He hated that he had shown too much of himself. He hated the amount of times Damen had seen how week he was. His mind flew back to crying in Damen's arms and he hated, hated, hated ever second of it. He hated that Damen was right as he held out his hand, and most of all he hated himself.

"On the count of three, I'll push it back into place," Damen said, holding his hand lightly. Laurent nodded and got himself ready. "One, two," Damen never got to three as he twisted and pushed his finger back into place before he knew what was coming.

He acutely felt the way the bones slid back into place and couldn't help but think that fixing his finger felt worse than when he had actually ruined it. He swore and tried to pull his hand out of Damen's grip, Damen who refused to let go and stubbornly held onto his hand.

"Let go," Laurent hissed.

"I will, but don't move your hand."

Laurent nodded and Damen let go, his shaking hand still hovering out between them. Damen grabbed the first aid kit that he had shoved between his knees in order to grab Laurent's hand. With gentle hands, Damen strapped his pinky finger to his ring finger.

"I highly suggest you go to a doctor, but do what you want. You might want to ice it too."

With that, Damen walked back inside and took back over the class. Laurent snatched his bag from a confused Nik and left, trudging his way back home to shower and change, not caring that it would make him late for his morning university classes.

…

Laurent didn't think his day could get any worse. His finger ached and throbbed, and despite icing it like Damen has suggested, his finger and hand swelled. Everything was painful, from taking notes to eating his lunch. He comforted himself with the fact that it wasn't his dominate hand and he was still capable of some things.

He skipped his afternoon coffee, not wanting to face Vannes who surely knew. That's the type of guy Damen was, he told everyone everything, well, not everything, but he told those closest to him enough. So instead he returned home, walking a round about path that took twice as long just so he didn't have to walk passed either the gym or the coffee shop. The heavy feel of his drooping eyes wasn't enough to entice him in for a coffee. He was going straight home to bed, fuck study.

Of course, as always, the forces that be decided that his day could get worse, as when he returned home he saw a car in the driveway and knew that his father was home. He almost turned around and fled, but remembered that he had no where else to go, there was no where to flee too. He would just have to face his father, have a brief conversation with him and then they would ignore each other like they always did. He just hoped that he managed to avoid him at least for one day.

The forces that be definitely hated him as his father was just walking towards the front door as Lauren entered.

"Hello, Laurent," his father said, the usual distain leaking through. He easily felt the way his father looked his way up and down, looking for anything to disapprove of, he wished that he had worn his jeans with the holes in the knees, just to piss him off. There was always tomorrow of cause, and he made a note to himself to wear his more worn out clothing the next day.

"What have you done to you're self?" his father asked, his eyes on his strapped fingers.

"Oh?" Laurent said, kicking his shoes off. "I didn't think you cared." He kept his tone casual, trying to aim for the usual indifference he had around his father.

"I don't," he said. With that he moved passed him and left the house.

Laurent never fooled himself to believe that his father was giving some bizarre form of tough love, but it still didn't hurt to know just how much his father despised his existence. The age gap between Auguste and himself wasn't because of medical reasons or simply because his parents decided to wait. It was all because his father didn't want another child, but his mother did. It took almost decade for his mother to become pregnant again, and although he never asked about the story behind his conception, he had his suspicions that his mother had orchestrated the whole thing. He doubted his mother was thinking at the time about just how much his father would resent his existence even more because of it.

It was a brief exchange, but seeing his father always left him feeling mentally exhausted. His own mind went into overdrive whenever they spoke, he often found his mind wandering to things he didn't want to think about. Adding his mental exhaustion to his physically state was too much. All he wanted to do was shower and go to bed.

…

_Laurent sat in his fathers office, his hands were shaking, his eyes hurt. He was moments away from tears after what he had just told his father. He knew his father was harder on him than he ever was on Auguste, he didn't understand why, but he knew that tears would offend his father. His father hated weakness and in his mind Laurent was the very epitome of weakness. He was nothing like his brother, not even like his mother who was outspoken against his father._

_Even when his mother was frail with her sickness, she still spoke back to his father in a way Laurent could only admire. He wondered if there was ever a point in their lives that they loved each other. In his entire life they were distant, Laurent knew his mother attempted to fill the gap by spending extra time with him. He didn't know why his father was so distant, as he showered Auguste with praise for every little thing he did._

_He didn't feel jealousy towards Auguste, because Auguste loved him openly and with all his heart. He could never think ill of Auguste, but what he did want, was his fathers approval and his fathers love. It was with these thoughts in his mind that he had gone to his father. He hoped that deep down his father felt something for him, that his maternal instinct would finally kick in. He thought that there was something there under the surface, and he hoped that his father would help him._

_In the end, he did help him, but it wasn't the way he imagined it._

_"Have you told anyone else about this? Auguste? Your teachers?"_

_Lauren shook his head, his eyes watering with tears he refused to shed._

_"You will not speak of this again."_

_The tears he were too scared to shed dried in his eyes, he felt like the tendons of sanity in his head were snapping. "What?" he asked softly._

_"You will not speak of this again!" he father shouted._

_He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He knew that his father was different with him, he knew this, but he never knew the extent of his fathers indifference towards him. It was like he was seeing things for the first time, it was all clear now. His father wasn't just different to him than he was towards Auguste, he simply didn't care. He cared more about his bother than his own son._

_Something in his brain finally snapped. He was no longer distraught, but tense with a white hot anger he had never felt before in his life._

_"So you're just going to let him keep doing as he wishes?" he said, his voice steady, dangerous._

_"I'll speak with him," his father said, his attention already else where._

_"Oh yes," Laurent said in a voice he never had before. "I can imagine how that conversation will go. 'Excuse me brother, but I'd appreciate it if you stopped fucking my son'."_

_It was the first time Laurent had ever swore, it was the first time he had ever spoken back to his father, but his mind was broken, all he saw and felt was rage, and in that moment, he hated his father more than anyone else. More than his uncle, more than the vile despicable man that had groomed him into a puppet when he was too innocent to know better._

_"I'm sure it'll go well. 'Oh, so sorry my brother, I tripped and fell, no worries I'll be more conscious of were my dick lands next time'."_

_"Get out," his father said, standing up so suddenly his desk shuddered and pens fell from his desk._

_Laurent couldn't stop now that he started, he was finally starting to take after his mother. "'I'm so sorry to bring this up to you, of course there is no harm done. As long as your dick doesn't land on Auguste it's fine'."_

_He kept spewing hated words as his father grabbed him and dragged him through the house. He yelled every swear word he knew as he was thrown into his room, his father locking the door with an ancient key. He screamed and yelled the entire night until he slumped against the door in exhaustion._

_When he woke up the next morning, the door was unlocked, he was alone, and he had been alone ever since._

…

He woke with a start, his mind a mess of memories and nightmares. Leaping from the bed he ran into his bedroom door and pulled at the handle, the door still locked in his mind, he pounded at it, tore at it. It wasn't until he felt a sharp pain run through his hand that he came back to himself.

The door wasn't locked, and he wasn't fifteen, he was twenty and he was as safe as he could be in his own house, he had removed the lock from the door himself. Although his heart still pounded, he gathered his mind and forced down the sick feeling, the feeling of his stomach rising into his throat. He felt chocked, dizzy, like five years hadn't past, like he was a child again. He slammed his fist against the door, the shock of pain traveling up his arm. Like before the pain helped him out of his thoughts and let him stop and think for a moment.

It had been awhile since his fathers appearance had caused such a reaction in him. He knew what had caused his memories to resurface, it was the outright statement that his father didn't care about him. It had been five years since his naive teenage mind had been opened to the fact that his father didn't care about him. It didn't mean that it didn't hurt him all over again.

Without thinking he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit Damen's number. It rang only twice before he picked up.

"Hello?" Damen said, his voice think, slurred.

"Can I come over?" Laurent asked immediately.

He heard the sound of Damen moving around, he imagined he heard the shuffle of sheets, he hadn't thought to check the time, he didn't know how late it was.

"Yeah, sure, I guess, if you need to."

"I'll be there in five," Laurent said, hanging up the phone.

He had only been to Damen's unit exactly once, and it was just briefly because Damen had forgotten his wallet when they were about to go on a date. He lived not far from his boxing gym in a one bedroom unit. Laurent could easily walk there in around twenty minutes if he wanted, but he didn't want to walk, he didn't want to wait that long. Instead he got into his car, that he rarely used, and drove as fast as he legally could to Damen's.

Damen opened the door wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a large singlet top. Laurent was a ball of nerves, stuck somewhere between throwing his arms around him and running for the hills.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Laurent asked, even as he let himself in.

"Sure," Damen said, running his hand over his face.

Damen's unit was a fairly simply affair, the front door lead directly into a generous kitchen that was attached to a not so generous living area. There was a doorway to the left that lead to a bedroom which had a modest but functional bathroom attached. There was a balcony off of the bedroom, a balcony that he knew Damen sat on and read, something he had told Laurent was one of his favourite things too do at the end of the day.

Laurent made his way into the kitchen and hovered unsure of where to go next.

"Take the bed," Damen said, shuffling over and falling down on the couch. "As much as I would love to talk, it's ten to one in the morning and I've had around eight beers, possibly nine."

"I'm not taking you're bed," Laurent said taking off his shoes. "I'll take the couch, go back to bed."

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Laurent," Damen said, his voice muffled as he talked into the couch cushions.

Laurent peered into Damen's darkened bedroom where he hadn't been before, it held a giant king sized bed. "I'm sure we'll both fit in the bed."

Damen groan again but got up and shuffled back to his bed, slumping face down onto his pillows. Laurent followed and lay down on the very edge of the bed, almost toppling over the edge. Damen moved to pass him a pillow and he filched away and very nearly fell off the edge.

Damen sat up, handed Laurent all of the pillows and then stood up, moving out of the darkened room.

"Where are you going?" Laurent said.

"To the couch, you're too on edge for this."

He left the room but Laurent still stayed perched on the edge of the bed. He wasn't ready to sleep again, not after what his mind had tormented him with earlier that evening. He had wanted to feel comfort with Damen, instead he found himself alone in an empty bed as he had been at home. The setting was different, but he still felt the same.

He stared at his phone for over an hour, reading various news articles that just depressed him. He thought about ringing Auguste, but figured waking up one person that night was enough. Besides he had never told Auguste, and he and their father had a good relationship, he never knew why Laurent and their father were distant. He never knew that their father hated him.

It was two thirty in the morning, after Laurent had downloaded a number of games onto his phone that he gave up. He got up from the bed and made his way into the kitchen, thinking that maybe he could make himself a cup of tea or coffee, depending on what Damen had in the cupboard. Or course it was a different matter when he caught sight of Damen asleep on the couch in the dark, the outside street lamps allowing Laurent too see him scrunched up on a couch too small for his large body.

He figured that if he wasn't going to sleep that Damen should at least be able to rest comfortably. Making his way over he slipped his hand into Damen's limp one and gently shook him awake. Damen groaned and threw an arm over his eyes, his other hand gently tightening in Laurents hold.

"Go to bed," Laurent said softly, pulling at his hand.

It took a few tries but eventually Damen stood up and stumbled back to his room with Laurent's guidance. He fell into bed and let out a content sigh, his hand still holding onto Laurent's tightly.

"What're ya gonna do?" Damen slurred in his half sleep.

"Coffee, I'm assuming you've got something good."

Damen chuckled, tugging at his hand. "You'd hate it, it's plunger coffee, hazelnut infused."

"That's disgusting."

Damen chuckled again, his eyes still closed, his hand still in his. He ran his thumb over Laurents hand softly, still half asleep. Laurent sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as Damen slowly went back to sleep, his hand falling limp.

Laurent knew what he wanted and he lay down, shuffling across the bed until his back was pressed to Damen's chest. He took the hand he still held and wrapped it around his body. Damen moved behind him and pulled him closer.

"What happened?" Damen said in a whisper.

"My father's home," Laurent whispered back.

"You've never really spoken about him," Damen said sounding slightly more awake.

Laurent took a pillow and made himself comfortable. He knew it was early morning, the sun would be coming up soon and whatever sleep he did get would be short and unsatisfying. Yet with Damen's arm around him he felt he could get a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep.

"He didn't want me," Laurent found himself saying, "He hates me."

Damen mumbled and moved forward, the unmistakable feeling of Damen's lips pressed to the back of his head.

"I want you," Damen said. 

Laurent nodded and hoped that Damen could feel his agreement. When he felt Damen's breath deepen in the obvious signs of sleep, he took Damen's hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. Damen sighed in his sleep and pulled him closer. With a tight hold on Damen's hand and his head jammed between Damen's jaw and chest, Laurent fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super tired but I wanted this out and it's probably full of mistakes.
> 
> But I'm eternally tired and this is about as good as it gets

Laurent woke the next morning when Damen moved behind him. He tried to rise, his eyes thick and his body heavy, still deep in the throes of sleep. The world was blurry around him through the slites of his eyes, the sun harsh and piercing. There was a gentle brush against his hair and a warm hand pressed to his cheek, a voice telling him softly to go back to sleep. He listened to the voice and buried deeper into the pillows, that same warm hand brushing his head as he slipped back to sleep.

He woke again, an unknown amount of time later with the same brush of a hand through his hair. His body less heavy, he finally rose and found that it was the middle of the day. He had slept through his morning classes but he found that he didn't care. Damen was there smiling down at him in his work out clothes. Him having finished his morning classes for the day, he took the time to return to his unit and check on Laurent.

Less concerned than he should have been, Laurent got up lazily. He languished in the coffee that Damen had brought him, let Damen make him breakfast, or considering the time, lunch. They ate together and talked, even as his voice croaked with the thickness of a deep sleep. Laurent left around one in the afternoon, knowing that he could at least make his afternoon class, which he attended after rushing home to shower and change.

At the end of the day, he went to the cafe and bought his usual coffee, sitting down on the veranda and watching the water across the way. He couldn't bring himself to care about the way Vannes teased him, saying he looked like an adoring puppy. He felt relaxed, content, and all those other words that to him could describe feeling safe. The illusion shattered when he returned home, his father there, barely sparing him a glance. It hurt to be in that large, once joyful house with the man he despised more than anyone else.

He called Damen again.

"Please, I can't stay here, not with him," Laurent said over the phone.

He could hear Damen's smile over the phone, not a hint of ridicule. "You can stay as long as you want, I'm happy to have you."

And so Laurent packed his bags, taking clothes and his text books. His computer and his phone charger, everything he needed for an extended stay.

Staying with Damen was freeing, he felt lighter than he had for years, like for the first time he was standing up straight. He hadn't realised how much the house had effected him until he wasn't in it. The house was the point of all his happiest and darkest memories. Being away from it was a breath of fresh air, and being with Damen made his heart flutter, happiness leaping into his throat, choking him with joy.

Laurent found himself doing such mundane things as eating dinner in front of the television. Cooking meals and washing dishes, everyday things that never use to mean anything and now meant everything. Settling into bed at night, his nose pressing into Damen's neck with his arms around him was the happiest he had been for seven years. Not since Auguste left, not since his mother died. It was a level of content he had forgotten had existed.

At night they kissed in the darkness of Damen's room, simple small kisses at first, that progressed over the days. Damen's tongue was skilled and he had no problems with showing Laurent how inticing it could be. Laurent felt every movement, the way it grazed against his lips, running into his mouth and against his own tongue. He learnt the way Damen's mouth felt against his jaw, his cheeks, and his ears. The feel of Damen's lips and tongue on his neck was a shock of breath, a sinful pleasure, a simple pleasure.

The first time Damen kissed his neck Laurent reacted with such a sudden intake of breath that Damen pulled away in concern. Without words, Laurent had pulled him back, tilting his neck so that Damen could reach every part of him. His neck was hot and slick, Damen seeming to take as much pleasure in the act as Laurent did. Wanting him to feel the same, Laurent kissed and licked his way across Damen's jaw and down his throat. They fell asleep at night with their bodies fused, Laurent's hands on Damens back, reaching up under his singlet. Damen simply rested one hand on Laurent's hip, his shirt pushed up. Their legs tangled together and their chests pressed against one another.

When one morning they woke against each other, both hard, Laurent had pushed away so suddenly he fell out of the bed. It took him seconds to scramble off of the floor and lock himself in the bathroom. Embarrassed beyond belief he sat on the floor of Damen's shower under cold water. Damen had pounded on the door, a hint of laughter in his voice telling him it was just morning wood. It took him half an hour, long after he had softened, before he finally reemerged.

"I'm not some blushing virgin, I have tasted sex before," Laurent snapped.

Damen had looked taken aback, concerned, and for a heart thundering second Laurent wondered if he knew. Yet all Damen did was brush a thumb lightly over his cheek to say that, he was still blushing. He slammed the door in the his face. Damen laughed on the other side. "It's okay," he said through the door, "I'm not a virgin either. Something else we have in common."

Laurent only opened the door when Damen started pleading that he needed to shower and that he was going to be late for work. Begrudgingly he had opened the door, giving Damen a quick peck on the lips before leaving for the day.

It was odd how fast time moved, even long after his father had left again, Laurent still returned to Damen's regularly. His hand healed and he finally returned to boxing classes. Damen told him he would be the judge, and when it finally happened after a month, he felt relieved that he could finally get back to it.

During his month away from classes he had still gone for morning runs with Vannes, her teasing spurring him on. He did sit ups and squats, things that wouldn't bother his hand, but he still missed the intensity of the classes. He missed the pushups, the dumbbells and the combinations. He missed focusing on moving his body just right to drive force behind a punch. He missed the burn of muscles and the worn out feeling at the end of a class. Going back, to classes made him feel good, but going home with Damen at the end of the day made him feel complete.

…

"God, you two make me feel sick," Vannes said one day as they kissed slowly on the veranda of the cafe.

"Jealous?" Damen said.

"Fuck no, what I've got it perfect, but congrats. You two are the new vomit and spew."

"What about the old vomit and spew?" Laurent asked.

"Oh, they broke up. In the shop, very messy. I didn't miss a second of it. Apparently Vomit, the guy, didn't think he was racist because his stereotypes were positive. Spew believes that since he was still making an assumption of someone based on their race that it was racist. Anyway, the whole thing was hilarious."

"What's a positive racial stereotype then?" Damen asked.

"Ugh, no I'm not getting into this," Vannes scoffed, turning away.

"It would be like saying that you're so healthy because he follow a mediterranean diet," Laurent chimed in.

"Which would be a racial assumption and not true. This body is from a strict protein rich diet and an extenssive work out routine. Also, I never liked Dolmades."

"Also an assumption that you like all Greek food," Laurent said, silently thinking about how he also didn't like dolmades.

"Which was Spew's point, and Vomit couldn't seem to get that through his head. I watched for a good fifteen minutes hoping she would throw a drink in his face. Never happened, but the confused look on his face when she stormed out was still pretty good. Anyway," Vannes said, standing up from the bar. "I have to start closing. I dub thee, Vomit and Spew. You guys get to argue over which is which."

It wasn't meant to be an argument, but both of them felt that vomit sounded worse than spew and neither of them wanted to be labeled as such. They ended up being kicked out by Vannes, informing her that they would like to be renamed Chunder and Puke. Vannes told them she didn't approve and instead named them the 'two spews', which they figured was better than other alternatives.

...

That night they lay in bed together, Damen running his hand over Laurent's bare chest. "You've really filled out in. You look amazing."

Laurent hummed in content, his eyes close. "I've always looked amazing to you."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you don't look a different kind of amazing."

Rolling to his side so he could face Damen, Laurent let his own hands explore Damen's bare chest. "It's not much compared to this," he said, his hands pressing onto to Damen's solid pecks, his nails scrapping slightly in a way he had learned Damen enjoyed. Damen run his hand lower, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of his sweat pants, lightly dipping under the band for a mere second. It was enough to make Laurent pull away, he sat up and grabbed his shirt from the floor putting it back on.

"Too much?" Damen asked. "It was unintentional."

"It's just what I'm like."

Damen sat up and went to put his own shirt on.

"No, leave it off," Laurent said pulling him back down. Because even if he was uncomfortable in his own body, he liked the feel of Damen's skin against his. He liked to rest his cheek to Damen's chest, feel the heat of his body and listen to his heart beat as he went to sleep.

"I can't believe I've only known you for three months," Laurent murmured into Damen's chest.

Damen threaded his fingers through Laurent's hair, kissing it softly. "Not long enough," he said.

...

Damen liked television, he wasn't addicted to it, but he certainly liked to sit down some nights and vegetate. Laurent didn't like to watch televisions, before spending time with Damen he turned his TV on maybe once a month. Usually just putting it on the twenty-four hour news channel or sometimes on one of the digital radio channels. He only ever used it as background noise, yet Damen actually watched it.

It was boring because why on earth were there so many reality shows? The people were truly awful, so were the hosts and judges. Why were there so many cooking shows? Laurent would have been more interested if it were a group of people sitting around exchanging recipes instead of being competitive dicks towards each other. However Damen knew their names and where they were from and rooted for certain people. Mostly Laurent sat next to him bored or reading, happy enough to hold his hand throughout the show.

On one particular Sunday night in early November, when he should have been studying for his upcoming finals, Laurent found himself sitting next to Damen, bored out of his mind. On the screen a truly awful couple were saying awful things about another awful couple. Something about too much sugar and dear god was he bored. Damen seemed enthralled and Laurent wondered if he asked Damen to suck his dick if he would be able to pull himself away from the mess that was on the TV for a few minutes.

Just as the thought entered his mind, Damen shut the TV off and turned to him, an inquisitive look on his face. And oh dear god, Laurent hadn't realised that he had spoken out loud. Damen didn't say anything until he was kneeling on the ground in front of Laurent saying. "Are you going to ask?"

His heart in his throat and his dick throbbing at the sight of Damen on his knees in front of him he was at a loss for what to say. "Well," Damen said, running a hand up his thigh, his fingers just out of reach for where it mattered.

"Would you," Laurent said, feeling his face go hot. "Suck my dick?"

With a smile, Damen pushed his legs apart and palmed him through his pants. He massaged him softly through his pants, his cock already rock hard.

"I'm not going to reciprocate," Laurent said, suppressing a moan.

"Thanks okay," Damen breathed, applying more pressure, before unzipping his jeans and shuffling them down. Laurent lifted his hips slightly so Damen could pull them down further. Now there was nothing between them but his boxer shorts and Laurent wondered if he was actually going to go through with this. He was scared, but he wanted it. He had never received a blow job before and he knew in a way that it was safer territory for him.

With Damen's fingers resting on the elastic band of his boxers he looked up once, asking for permission. He thought about it for a moment, wondering what he had to loose, it was a completely new experience for him, possibly a positive one, and well, if it went badly, he would have an excuse not to do anything again. He panicked for a second, if it was bad, he couldn't do anything with Damen again, it could mean the end. Yet there was the evidence right in front of him that he wanted it. So with a small nod, he let Damen pull his boxers down.

He was embarrassed at first, having Damen look at his cock. But Damen seemed to look at him in wonder, one hand curling around him and moving slowly, the lightest of touches. His own hands curl into the cushions of the couch, his head falling back to look at the ceiling. It was already so much and Damen had barely started.

Looking up at the ceiling, he felt the movement of Damen's hand, the callouses on his hand, the way he twisted his fist slightly, the slight press of his thumb against the slit of his cock. It was too much, he could barely control his breathing, yet he was determined, he couldn't let himself make a sound.

He was doing well until Damen licked up the length of his cock, the action causing him to hiss and look back down. Damen was looking up at him, one hand at the base of his cock, his mouth hovering ever so slightly above him so that he could feel Damen's breath. Without breaking eye contact, Damen curled his tongue around the head of his cock before sucking it fully into his mouth. Letting out the smallest of groans Laurent let his head fall back again, he wasn't going to last long if he was looking at Damen while it happened.

Damen moved slowly, agonisingly slowly, yet Laurent knew there was no way he would last, or even continue if things went any faster. He could feel every slow move, how hot it was, the wet slide of every movement of his tongue. It wasn't what he expected, he hadn't expected it to feel so mind-blowing and good. He didn't know it could make his whole body tingle or that he could feel so breathless. Somewhere in the middle of it all Damen worked one of his hands into Laurent's and he clutched at it so tightly it was painful but he wouldn't let go, he couldn't.

He found his other hand in Damen's hair, stroking and pulling at his curls. Small moans leaving his mouth, his body twitching, muscles contracting. It was too good, and then he felt his cock hit the back of Damen's mouth and if that wasn't enough, Damen slowly pushed further, his cock sliding down his throat. The heat was intense, the pressure even more so, and it was pure will alone that stopped him from coming then and there.

Sweat prickled at his brow and he was acutely aware of the way it caught and rolled down his face. Their hands were sweaty in a hold both of them refused to relinquish. When Damen slide his cock down his throat again and swallowed around him Laurent knew it was over. He tried to sputter a warning, in response Damen swallowed around him again, his tongue pushing against him and with that he came.

He twitched and shuddered, still trying his hardest to keep still and silent. Yet a small, embarrassing whine escaped as he came down Damen's throat. It almost hurt, how sensitive he felt, how Damen kept working even after he had come, his tongue pressing into flesh so sensitive that Laurent had to push his head away.

"Holy shit," Laurent breathed, his chest tight, hands twitching, toes curling.

"Yes," Damen moaned against his skin. He kissed his way up his chest, so lost in his pleasure that he hadn't noticed the way that Damen had worked his shirt up.

Damen kissed up his stomach, up to his chest, a small kiss on one nipple and up to his neck. He repeated over and over 'yes' after every kiss he pressed. He nuzzled into his neck, kissing and licking at his neck, then his jaw and then to his mouth.

"Ugh! At least brush your teeth before you kiss me."

Damen just laughed, sitting down next to him on the couch, pressing close together, his mouth on his jaw again. Pressed so close together, Laurent could easily feel how hard Damen was against him.

"Do you… do you want me to do something about that?" Laurent asked, still hesitant.

"No," Damen mumbled against his neck, seemingly unable to pull away from his neck. "I'll take care of it."

Laurent was ashamed that he felt relief, but there was something else he knew he could do, something he wanted. "Can I watch?"

"What?" Damen said, pulling away from his neck at last.

"Never mind." Laurent made to pull away, but Damen gripped him, pulling him close to bury his face into his neck again.

"No, I would love that."

"Then do it, but don't move, keep your head where it is."

Damen nodded, his face buried in his neck, curling around him. With Damen's head pressed to his neck, his lips close to his collarbone, Laurent could see everything as Damen pulled his pants down just enough to pull out his cock. He fisted it immediately, his hand moving harsher and faster than it had on Laurent earlier.

He watched on in fascination, feeling Damen's breath against his skin. Damen had no qualms about making noise, he moaned against his neck, he shuddered when he needed to. Even as he pulled and twisted his fist, he pressed kisses to Laurent's neck, sucking softly down to his collarbone and back up. Laurent moved his hand up and down Damen's muscular back, encouraging him to move, to feel. With a jolt and a shout, Damen came, and Laurent watched the whole thing with wide eyes.

"Shit," Laurent said. His eyes were wide, his breath shuddering again, amazed that what he had just seen had such an affect on him.

"Agreed," Damen moaned, his cock still twitching.

Damen let his lips brush up his neck, back to his lips where he pressed a hot opened mouth kiss. Forgetting himself, Laurent kissed back, their tongues pressing together. Tasting the stomach churning flavour of cum, he pulled away with a disgusted look.

"I thought I told you to brush your teeth."

Damen pulled away with a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before standing up. "I'll go clean up."

Once he had left, reality came back to him, and Laurent realised that he was sitting on Damen's couch with his cock out. He pushed himself back into his pants, still sensitive enough that he let out a soft hiss. He tried not to think about how wet his cock was from Damen's mouth. He could still feel the moisture though once he pulled up his pants and zipped them up. If anything the enclosure made the damp feeling more obvious.

With Damen still cleaning himself up, Laurent stood up, his legs shaking, and made his way to the fridge to get a drink of water. He poured himself a glass and sipped the cool water slowly, it didn't help alleviate the heat he felt all over his body. He really hadn't expected it too feel so good, he also didn't expect to enjoy watching Damen pull at himself, or that he would revel in the sounds that Damen made. The shuddering breaths, the way he groaned and swore and breathed his name in the softest whisper.

"Fuck," he said, resting his head against the cool feeling of the fridge.

He still felt hot, his whole body thrumming with pleasure, it was too intense. Turning around he leaned back against the fridge, sipping the water slowly. Damen returned, a large smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of Laurent leaning against the fridge.

"My mouth is now minty fresh."

Laurent placed the glass on the nearest available surface and beckoned Damen over to him. "Kiss me," he said, and Damen was happy to oblige, pressing their bodies together and cupping his face before he kissed him softly, so sweetly that Laurent felt like he could easily forget about everything in the world. When Damen pulled away, that same goofy smile on his face, Laurent grabbed his shirt, jerking them back together. Their teeth clashed, they clicked, and Laurent found himself thinking that at that moment, that click was his favourite sound in the world.

He felt himself react and his whole body coming alight with the kiss. "Do it again," he said, only pulling away far enough to speak.

Damen kissed him once more, before getting to his knees and doing exactly as Laurent said.

…

They were back on the couch, Laurent languid, his body a limp pile of muscles and his head in Damen's lap. Above him, Damen was working his jaw, moving it from side to side, a slight click obvious even to Laurent.

"I would apologise, but I really don't care."

"Trust me," Damen said, dropping his hand to rest on his shoulder. "I couldn't care less right now." Leaning down he pressed a kiss to his temple before sitting up and gently playing with the tips of Laurent's hair.

"I should go home. I've been slacking off with my studies."

"I doubt you actually need to study. I've never seen anyone absorb knowledge the way you do."

Laurent didn't reply, too distracted by the feel of Damen's fingers playing with his hair. His eyes closed with the light touches and he knew if he let himself he would fall asleep then and there. It was hard to push himself up, even harder to pull away from Damen.

"I can't afford to slack off, finals are at the end of the month. On top of all that I have a family gathering at the beginning of December. My father isn't the only person who will notice if my grades aren't one hundred percent."

"Fine," Damen said, stretching slightly before letting out a loud yawn. "The enthralling world of business awaits."

"Enthralling isn't exactly the word," Laurent huffed, gathering the few things he had brought with him and shoving them into his shoulder bag.

"I don't mean to pry, but I'm going to," Damen said, standing to follow him to the door. "You don't seem very enthusiastic with Business, why did you choose it?"

"I didn't at first," Laurent said, sitting down on the floor to put on his socks. "I did one year of law before I transferred to business." Standing up, he shuffled into his shoes.

"How come you changed?"

His mind raged and threatened to go elsewhere, but he found himself able to concentrate enough on the question.

"Let's just say the content got to me. There was this one case we had to study. A man who got away with the rape and murder of a two year old child because of the double jeopardy law. I couldn't handle it, that the law was so flawed. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle the cases unbiased like one is suppose to. So I changed to business, it's not exactly scintillating, but it's something I will be able to get a job with."

"That's horrible," Damen said, stepping closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "I wouldn't be able to handle it either."

"No, the ones that can either don't care or are strong enough to want to make a difference."

"You're strong," Damen said, pressing a small kiss to his forehead. The feeling making Laurent giddy as it always did these days.

"Not when he comes to things like that. It's an old case, we studied it as an example of the double jeapardy law. But it was thirty years ago, the law still exists and I can't be involved with that."

"Just because you're a part of the system, doesn't mean you have to follow the rules. You can study law so you can change it. Human rights, immigration, refugees, there are other parts of the law."

He was right, and Laurent wondered that maybe, in time, he might be strong enough to return to law. Not for the exact reasons Damen had said, but instead to protect people like himself, people that never got a chance. People whow were abused by the people they were suppose to trust.

"It's something to think about," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, I sound like I'm pushing you. You do what ever makes you happy."

"It's certainly not business."

Damen laughed and pulled away. "When you know, let me know, and I will support you whole heartedly."

"When I was younger, I enjoyed languages," he said before he realised. "I can speak French, Italian and Spanish along with passable Portuguese and German."

"You're so full of surprises," Damen said with another kiss, this time to his temple. "Say something to me in French."

"Je déteste ce temps que je pourrais t'aime."

"Again, but in Spanish."

"Odin en el tiempo que pude amarte."

"Just when I thought I couldn't find anything else about you to love."

Love was too strong of a word. "I have to go."

He left, slamming the door behind him. It was just too much and if he didn't leave that second, he wouldn't have left at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my French is super fucking rusty and I spent too long trying to figure it out and I probably failed.  
> My Spanish is non existent and I used google translate, but please do correct any mistakes I have made in either language.
> 
> There was a bit of a time jump but it's necessary, otherwise I could easily give in and write chapter after chapter of their every day together. 
> 
> The positive-sterotypes-are-still-racist conversation is based on a real life break up I witnessed. I thought it was interesting and wanted to work it into the story. 
> 
> If their is anything anyone see wrong with this chapter PLEASE let me know.
> 
>  
> 
> I love you all, comments and kudos give me life. I swear they do. I love reading comments and could do it for daaaays.
> 
> Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> See you next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't update for awhile and this is a piss poor chapter but I had reasons!
> 
> Reason number one:
> 
> My computer died, it was just too old and it over loaded and died. I should have been nicer to it also!  
> Knowing the computer was on it's last legs months back I put a computer on layby and here it is!
> 
> Reason number two:
> 
> I got a new job and it turned into this monster with about 200 times more hours than I signed up for. Between a job I already had, I've worked almost 120 hours in the past two weeks. I'm tired.
> 
> Also I wrote a one-shot if anyone is interested! I did see many of my regular readers there, many thanks to you all! But those of you who didn't know, I'd love to know what you think!
> 
> WARNING: There is a racial slur used in this chapter.

Laurent was beginning to think that maybe he was spending a little but too much time on Damen's couch. But really who could blame him when Damen was pressed against him, his mouth to his neck doing things to him he didn't think possible. The thought that he was spending too much time on the couch was just a small voice in the corner of his brain. A much more dominate voice was telling him he wasn't going to be seeing Damen for two weeks and he should be able to enjoy himself while he can.

It was his decision to not see each other for the coming weeks. He had all of his final exams for the year in the coming weeks. He was lucky that he got most of his exams over and done with in the first week, having only one on a Thursday in the second week. He had decided that it was best not to see each other during the time, saying that Damen was too much of distraction. This also meant no boxing classes, but he had still agreed to go on morning runs with Vannes to keep his fitness up.

Damen had understood his decisions, but that didn't mean he liked it. He had claimed that they would just have to fit in over a week of time together into one Sunday. Damen had made sure to fill Laurent's day completely. He started with trying to make breakfast, which was a disaster. Laurent having taken over, making the both of them omelettes. Then they had seen a movie where Laurent ate an entire box of popcorn to himself, resulting in him falling asleep during the movie.

After the movie Damen had taken him back to the modern art gallery which had a new exhibition. To his delight they had installed a large slide that went from the third floor down to the ground floor. Laurent had ridden it once, and then stood at the bottom with his arms crossed as Damen ran back up the stairs to go down it a total of six times. He was running to go down a seventh time when Laurent dragged him away. They wound up in the small cafe attached to the gallery where Laurent ate two slices of caramel cheesecake.

They returned to Damen's house on the bus, Laurent resting against Damen's shoulder and rubbing his swollen stomach. He fell asleep again on the bus, Damen's hand in his and his thumb lightly caressing his hand. It was a twenty minute bus ride and by the time Damen woke him up he was feeling better. Then they had settled onto Damen's couch, intending to watch a movie on Netflix. They never saw more than the opening credits before they started to kiss.

Now Laurent was pressed against the arm of the couch, his back digging into it unpleasantly as Damen languished soft kissed against his neck. His position caused his shirt to ride up as it caught against the armrest, Damen quickly took the opportunity to run his hand across the bare flesh. A make out session on the couch would have been a perfect ending to the day, if it wasn't for Laurent's phone.

"Oh my god!" Damen said, pulling away. "Just turn it off!"

It was the third time his phone had rang and the first time Laurent bothered to check who had called.

"I can't," Laurent said, noticing that it was Auguste who was calling him. "He wont give up, and if I turn my phone off he'll think something is wrong. I wouldn't put it passed him to track my phone and send the police over."

"Who is it?" Damen said, obviously suspicious.

Laurent took a moment to pull away from Damen, pushing his shirt back down. "It's my brother," he said.

"He's visiting soon isn't he? Can I meet him?"

"We'll see," Laurent said, pushing the call button. Honestly he would love nothing more than for Damen and Auguste to meet. Yet he didn't know if it was the right time. Their relationship was still new and while he knew Auguste would have no problems with Damen, he himself wasn't ready.

"Are you alright?!" Were Auguste's first words when he picked up the call.

"Yes, fine. I was just- in the middle of something," he said with a sideways glance at Damen.

Damen smiled at his words and shuffled close again, wrapping his arms around Laurent's waist and resting his head on his chest. With his free hand, Laurent casually ran his hand through Damen's hair, pulling lightly at the curls and watching them spring back into place.

This was what he meant when he thought Damen was too distracting, Auguste had to repeat himself twice before Laurent focused back on the call again.

"I'm sorry what?" Laurent said, pulling at an especially tight curl. "I'm still kind of in the middle of something."

"I said, there's been a change of plans."

Laurent sat up, pushing Damen away, he needed to focus. "What's up, are you still coming?"

"We're still coming, but Elaine's found herself in a bit of a fix. Her parents booked this overseas holiday for just the two of them and we were going to watch her brother while they went. Turns out the bookings got mixed up and now they have to leave earlier than they thought. Just letting you know that he's going to be coming as well."

"A kid?" Laurent said, sitting up straight. "How old his he?"

"Thirteen."

Thirteen is not a good age, thirteen was a very bad age. Standing up suddenly, he held his hand up to Damen in a sign that he should stay and left the room. He made his way through the unit until he was on Damen's balcony, making sure the door was closed before continuing the conversation.

"Is there no where else he can go?" Auguste scoffed down the lines, obviously offend. "That's not what I meant, i just mean, with Uncle there and all…"

"Yeah I know, it's a full house, but honestly no one trusts him on his own. I'm not going to say he's a bad kid, but the word devious certainly comes to mind." Laurent wasn't concerned with the house being crowded, Laurent was concerned that the kid was in a certain age demographic. "Anyway, just wanted to let you know. I think you two will get along actually."

Laurent knew he was taking a jab, but he couldn't answer back at all. All he could think about, was there was kid, a young kid, one that was in danger.

"Was that all?" Laurent asked, trying not to panic.

"That's all. Are you sure you're alright, you seem a little off?"

"No, I'm fine," he said, trying to push strength into his voice that wasn't there. "I was just - in the middle of something."

"By the way. You never told me how things worked out with your mystery suitor. Holy shit! Is that what you were in the middle of!"

"Good bye, Auguste," he said through grit teeth hanging up the phone.

His breath was doing the annoying thing of getting stuck in his throat and he felt seconds away from throwing up. His hands were shaking and her gripped the railing of the balcony in an attempt to make it stop. A kid, a thirteen year old kid, staying in the same house as his uncle.

There were a number of reasons why nothing could happen. The kid could be an early bloomer, nothing along the lines of his uncle's tastes. While his father didn't care about Laurent, he certainly cared about Auguste. His father wouldn't let his brother mess up things for Auguste. But he wasn't convinced the man would be able to control himself. Monsters like him rarely could, if he was willing to go after his own nephew, what was another kid?

He had an idea, and it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Checking the time, he took a moment to make sure his breathing was normal and his hands weren't shaking. When he was sure he conveyed a calm appearance, he stepped back inside and made his way back to Damen. In the time he was gone, Damen had switched on the television and was flicking aimlessly through channels. He had learned enough in time that he turned the television off when Laurent returned.

"I take it the mood is ruined?" said Damen.

"Very much so," Laurent said, grabbing his bag. "Tell me, do you own a drill?"

***

They had made it to the closest hardware store in time to make a few quick purchases before it closed. Being a Sunday afternoon they had barely made it, but Laurent was only buying a few small things. He took his items to the check out with a confused Damen following behind him. Laurent was sure he was wondering why they suddenly had to buy a set of sliding bolts and two padlocks, but he had what he thought was a decent enough excuse.

From the hardware store they drove back to Laurent's, the house empty as it usually was. Then Laurent had taken Damen's drill and personally fixed a sliding bolt to the back of one of the guest bedrooms doors. The bedroom Laurent knew that the kid would be staying in. Auguste would get the best room of course, the one with the en suite. Uncle would get the second best, no en suite, but still a large room with a double bed. That left the smaller room with the fold out couch for the unexpected guest.

Damen had helped him put the bolt in place, and he probably could have done it better. Yet Laurent felt like it was something he needed to do personally, he needed to see it fitting into place. When it was ready, he made Damen stand on the other side of the door and try and open the door, Laurent asking him to use a small amount of force.

Laurent was happy when the door didn't budge and then they moved on. Taking the second bolt, they moved on to Laurent's room where he once against, secured the sliding bolt to the back of his door. It was indulgent, placing a lock only he could control on his door. He was much to old to garner to his Uncle's desires, yet he wanted the added piece of security. It was for his own piece of mind and nothing else.

"Care to tell me why we're securing locks onto doors?" Damen asked.

He had let himself fall back onto Laurent's bed after the lock was fitted. Laurent was quick to join him, curling up to Damen's side and resting his head on his chest.

"Auguste's fiance is bringing her younger brother with her," said Laurent.

"And that requires a lock because?"

"Because I know what it's like to be a teenager and having no place to retreat to. I'm giving him the option of shutting himself off from a group of people he doesn't know." Of course, Laurent didn't know if the kid would use the lock or not. He was simply hoping the kid would want to shut himself off from everyone else. Also Auguste had no boundaries, he was the type of person to barge into someones room at the crack of dawn just because he was up himself.

"Okay," Damen said, wrapping an arm around Laurent's waist, " Then why is there a lock on your door?"

"Once, I told my father something he didn't want to hear," Laurent said, his fingers curling, clutching at Damen's shirt, "He locked me in this room, and I had no control. I've since taken the lock apart but, I want to be the only one who decides whether the door is locked or not."

It was a half truth, he did want the control, and the night his father locked him in his room was one of his worst memories. The fact that he was hiding from his Uncle, and what he did, that was something he wasn't ready to tell Damen. Recently he had been thinking about telling Damen, what had happened to him. He had learned enough about Damen that he thought he wouldn't leave, but there was an underlying fear. He wanted to think he could trust Damen, and most days he was sure he did. His mind wouldn't let him trust though.

"If that's what you're going to tell me, then okay," Damen said with a sigh.

Laurent stiffened and then forced himself to relax. "What?" he snapped.

"When're you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Laurent said, pushing himself up, Damen's arm falling from his waist to the bed.

"Nothing," Damen said, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"No. What do you mean? Tell you what?"

Laurent felt his heart rate pick up and once against his hands started to shake. Realising just how close he was to hysterics he forced down his psychical reactions and as a result his head started to hurt. His blood was pulsing and he could feel every tight shock of blood thunder through his mind.

Damen's arm slid away from his eyes, "It's not a conversation I'm ready for anyway. I don't want to argue, I'm not going to see you for awhile. Can't we just lay here?"

"No!" Laurent shouted, his fear that Damen knew stronger than ever.

"I'm sorry I said anything," Damen said sitting up.

Crawling off the bed in a hurry, Laurent backed himself against a wall and crossed his arms, every part of his body letting off an aura of defence. "What did you mean?" Laurent asked again, his voice icy.

"You're angry, it's not a good time for this." Damen said. He stood from the bed and made towards Laurent who pressed himself further into the wall as a result. "Should I leave?"

"I think that's a good idea," Laurent said instantly.

"Laurent…"

"No. You should leave."

Damen took another step towards him, but when Laurent remained closed off he made for the door instead. "When will I see you again?"

"I'll let you know."

"Will you at least see me out?"

"You know where the door is," Laurent said, coiling even further into himself.

"I'm sorry," Damen said again, quietly, "We're not going to see each other for weeks. I just want to say good bye properly."

Laurent felt the guilt burn at the back of his mind, the feeling mixing with the ache of his anxiety. He didn't want to hurt Damen, not anymore, but there were things he wasn't ready for, and he wasn't use to Damen pushing.

"Fine," he spat at last, pushing himself away from the wall. It wasn't ideal, and he was still highly strung, but he still couldn't find himself pushing Damen away completely.

Laurent led the way out, Damen trailing behind him looking half his size which was a feat in itself. He looked smaller in his red t-shirt and loose black jeans, but it was still obvious he was a big man. When Laurent looked over his shoulder, the way Damen walked behind him managed to make him look two feet tall. He knew he should apologise, but as much as he wanted Damen around, was as much as he wanted him far away from him.

Of course fate was out to get him, as when he reached for the handle to the front door the door opened revealing his father. They all stopped where they were and glanced at each other. Laurent guessed Damen knew who his father was as he straightened, looking less pathetic and a scowl spreading across his face. While Laurent really didn't blame him considering what he had said about his father. He really wished that Damen didn't look quite so threatening.

"Laurent," his father said in greeting, "Who's this?"

"Damen, a friend." The way that Damen's face fell hurt more than Laurent could have imagined, but he twisted the knife deeper. "Just a friend."

' _Boyfriend_ ', he should have said. ' _This is Damen, my boyfriend._ ' He should have, but he didn't, he couldn't.

Damen didn't say a word, he just walked out the door. But before he did, he stopped for a second next to his father, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down at him. For a moment, Laurent thought that he saw a hint of fear in his father, but it was just a second and Laurent had to wonder if maybe he was being hopeful. And then Damen was gone, and he was left with his father.

"Interesting," his father said, closing the door behind him, "I didn't think you could manage to have any friends."

"I'm full of surprises," Laurent said, walking away.

"I don't want him in this house again."

"What?" Laurent said, halting in his retreat.

"I don't want that wog back in this house ever again."

It wasn't the first time Laurent had imagined hitting his father, but it was certainly the strongest the feeling had ever been. "I'll be sure to add 'racist' to your ever expanding list of endearing qualities." Laurent said sarcastically.

Laurent made his way back to his room and slid the newly installed bolt into place. He was the one to make the decision to lock the door.

His mind was a hurricane, his thoughts an endless whirl of pain. He'd hurt Damen, more than he thought possible. His father had seen them and he didn't realise until that moment how much he wanted to keep Damen away from his family. His family was a black puddle of spreading cancer. A devious thing only capable of poisoning and killing everything around it. He was no different, he had inherited the black growth and now he had tainted Damen with it.

He should have known it wouldn't last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As C.S. Pacat herself has said, 'wog' is a reclaimed slur. 
> 
> I was raised with the word 'wog' being used as a description of people from a certain ethnicity and it was just a thing. 
> 
> These days I know it's fucking wrong for me, the whitest of whitey whites, to use it. 
> 
> I felt the need to write it into the fic because I wanted everyone to know just how much of a dick Aleron was in my mind, and because it's something that happens in the world. 
> 
> I guess I wanted to add some authenticity to it, because people are still like that in the real world. As far as we've come, it's still in common use here in Australia.
> 
> I'm sorry if it offended anyone.
> 
>  
> 
> In other words; obviously I failed last chapter. My French is worse than I thought. What i meant to say was, "I hate that in time I could love you."
> 
> Of course the same was said in Spanish, which was google transFAIL!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nine days later I have a day off...
> 
> Still working too much, sorry for random updates but it's still within that next week of the last chapter.
> 
> To me that's once a week!
> 
> Also it took me awhile to get into the rhythm of this chapter so it may be off in places.
> 
> I drop the C-Bomb in this chapter, thought I should let you all know incase that particular word offends people.
> 
> Thank you all for you lovely comments, I cherish them all :)

Laurent had decided to spend two weeks away from Damen because he was too much of a distraction. After a week he was beginning to realise that being without Damen was just as much of a distraction.

He had finished most of his exams, he only had one more to go. But the thought of spending another week without Damen, especially after how they had parted, was pure agony. He was trying to study, but all he could think about was how he had last left Damen, and what he had done.

His father’s sporadic arrival had thrown him like it always did. He should have stood up for himself, told his father what Damen really was to him. In the end he had hurt Damen. It was probably a good thing he hadn’t mentioned their real relationship though. His fathers obvious distain towards Damen’s ethnicity made him feel better about his decision.

But the hurt he had caused Damen and the self loathing he felt made him wonder otherwise. He wished that he was strong enough to stand up to his father, but when the moment arose, he had backed down. Now he was left alone with nothing from Damen.

He had thought multiple times throughout the week about contacting Damen. Just a simple text would have done, but like standing up to his father, he wasn’t strong enough. He knew he had told Damen not to contact him in the mean time, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hoping for it.

He was attempting to study for his final exam when Damen took matters into his own hands. His phone rang with the text tone he had assigned to Damen and he would swear on his life that he did not dive for his phone the moment he heard it. His study was forgotten instantly as he hastily unlocked his phone to read the message.

_‘Hey, I know you’re busy studying and you told me not to text but I couldn't wait any longer I just need to know if you're okay? I also want you to know that I’m upset about they way you introduced me to you're father. I understand your relationship with your father isn’t the best but I don’t think I deserved to be pushed away like that. I’m happy to talk about it when your exams are finished and even after you’re family gathering if you’re not ready. But it’s something we need to talk about. There are a few other things we need to talk about as well if our relationship is to continue. If you don’t want to continue what we have, I’d prefer you let me know.'_

The final line hurt, because it confirmed what he had been thinking. That perhaps Damen thought his reluctance to reveal their relationship meant it was over.

It was easily the longest text that he had received from Damen, and it was obvious that Damen had spent too much time pondering over it. Usually Damen’s texts were quick and full of emojis. The fact that the text contained punctuation meant that he had spent a bit too much time on it.

He knew what he had to do, and rather than text, he brought up Damen’s number and called him instantly.

Damen picked up after the first ring. “Hey,” he said, his voice hesitant.

The silence stretched out, Laurent wavering on what to say. “I don’t want us to be over,” he spat out at the end.

He could hear the way Damen sighed at the end of the line. He could easily visualise Damen running a hand down his face as he did.

“As I said, I understand your relationship with your father, but I can’t help but feel that maybe you’re ashamed of me. You wrote me off so quickly what else was I suppose to think?”

But he didn’t understand, not in the slightest. Damen had broken down more of his walls than he ever thought possible. But there were some things he still didn’t understand. He didn’t just have a bad relationship with his father. His father didn’t care about him in the slightest respect. He could die in a car accident tomorrow and the first thing his father would do, would be too look into insurance.

Instead he told Damen a half-truth, something he was getting to use to doing around Damen. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but if I had told him, it would have hurt more. He’s not a good person, Damen.”

“What’s the worst that could have happened?”

Laurent didn’t like to imagine the worst that could have happened. He imagined his father telling him to break it off, his father kicking him out. Maybe his father would have finally given in and struck him.

“You know,” Laurent said, his heart racing listening to Damen’s voice. “I can think of so many out comes and all of them are terrible. You don’t get it Damen, my family, they’re horrible.”

After he said it, he realised that he was in a way including his mother and Auguste in that description. His brother was the very vision of a doting brother, and his mother had done nothing but love him, he should not have included them. He did, however, include himself in the description.

“I really hope you don’t think that of yourself Laurent.”

Of course he did.

“I’m not the best person either. I hate that I’ve tainted you.”

“Laurent,” Damen whined, and Laurent could hear every ounce of pain in his voice. “When are you going to see that you’re not the horrible person you think you are?” Damen’s words were so similar to Auguste’s that it almost made him sick.

It made him think of his Uncle, whispering into his ear. The voice was telling him that he was unnatural, that it was wrong for him to love his brother so much. He couldn’t deny that Damen was similar to Auguste in a number of ways. He had noticed it before, the way they both trusted so easily. The careless obliviousness they had to circumstances around them. The way that since they didn’t think in a certain hateful way, that they couldn’t see it around them.

He was starting to wonder if maybe his Uncle was right. Maybe that was why he had ended up with someone so similar to his brother. And because his mind was a hateful place, it conjured images that he didn’t want to see. Images that made his stomach roll and a sick feeling rise up into his throat.

He choked as the thoughts took hold and somewhere far away he could hear Damen. He couldn’t make out the words, his mind thick with fog. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but eventually Damen’s words came through and he was able to make out that Damen was telling him that he was coming over.

“Don’t,” he choked out, “Don’t, he’s here, I don’t want him to see you.”

“Fucking hell, Laurent!”

“No, you don’t get it. He can’t see you, he can’t know.”

“What the fuck am I suppose to think, Laurent?”

“I’m worried about you!” Laurent yelled, his hand clutching the phone so tight he thought it would break. “I don’t want him near you! I don’t want him to know because he’s a horrible person and you don’t deserve that!”

The line went silent and Laurent took the time to try and regain his breath. The sick feeling had calmed down slightly and he knew he could continue on. Where ever the conversation was going, he knew that he could finish it.

“I still want to come over,” Damen said at last.

“I can’t deal with it. Not now, maybe in time, but not right now. It’s just one of those things you’re going to have to face.”

“Fuck,” Damen said with a breath.

“One day, I’ll tell you, but now isn’t the time.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t want us hiding in shadows, pretending we aren’t together.”

He felt guilt at that moment, and he hated that Damen had made him feel it. He had gotten so use to Damen making he feel good that he had forgot that it could be any other way.

“Give me until the end of the week. Let me finish my exams. Until then I’ll think about it.”

“If you say so.”

At that moment, Laurent didn’t think he could ever be so angry again. He was trying to make Damen understand, but he just wasn’t hearing any of it.

“Fuck you,” he spat out, and with that he hung up the phone.

***

In the middle of the exam hall, half way through his test, Laurent came to a decision. He decided that he didn’t give a fuck about Business anymore. He didn’t care about the numbers, the likelihood of getting a job after graduation. He didn’t care about the time he had spent studying. He decided at the end of his exam, he would walk away from Business and never take one glance back.

He wanted nothing more than to stand up and walk away. He didn’t care about it after all, but what he did care about was his grades. It wouldn’t help his desire to transfer courses if he left in the middle of an exam. If he wanted to be accepted, he would have to finish.

So he kept himself seated and worked through his exam, answering questions about insurance and management that to him were normally simple. He hated every moment of it and at times found himself struggling with basic maths because he just didn’t care.

By the time he walked out of the hall, he didn’t know if he had passed or failed. He was fairly confident that the first half of the test was perfect. It was the rest the was the problem, the point after his epiphany. He had tried to finish, but once he realised he didn’t care, it was hard to focus. He just hoped that he managed to answer enough to pass.

For the first time he found himself craving alcohol. He didn’t want to get black out drunk and stumble around like a fool. He merely wanted the light headed weightless feeling he got after a drink or two. He thought of the thick creamy stout that Damen had bought him more than once and every desire to drink left him.

It seemed that everything he did these days made him think of Damen. Even his desire to give up on business made him think of Damen. It made him think about how Damen had pointed out that Business didn’t seem to be his thing. It made him think about what else he should study, and how Damen said he would support any decision he made.

He didn’t know where to go from there. Law was out, Business was out. Maybe he would look into linguistics or something along those lines. He knew his LOTE was rusty, but he was sure with a bit of time he could catch up. After all, with that final exam he was done for the year.

His first thought after leaving the university were of Damen. He wanted to see him so much that he forgot for a moment about the last time the spoke. He had practically told Damen to go fuck himself and they hadn’t spoken since.

He didn’t imagine it would go over well if he were to suddenly ask Damen if he could come over. He decided he would wait, maybe probe how Damen was feeling with a few text messages. It had been four days since the disastrous phone call. He didn’t know where they stood or what he should say.

He started his usual walk home, the journey lighter for the lack of books. The lack of books wasn’t the only thing that made him feel lighter. After the final exam, he was now official done with Business. He hadn’t realised there was a weight following him around until it was gone.

He had spent too long focusing on what was necessary that he hadn’t thought about what he wanted. What he wanted he didn’t know, but he now knew what he didn’t want.

As always, his legs moved on automatic as they made their way to the cafe. So focused on his phone he didn’t notice that the place was closed until he reached the closed door. He stared at the wooden door for a moment before glancing back at his phone, viewing the time and realising that it was indeed closing time for the cafe. The sun was still up with the beginnings of summer, and his phone held a half finished message to Damen that he had no knowledge of.

He deleted the message like it had the last five, all of them an illegible mess that he could barely remember. With a sigh, he let his head rest against the closed door and wondered what he was going to do next.

Going home wasn’t really an option, he didn’t want to be there. His father was still home and probably would be until both Auguste and his Uncle were gone again. A shudder passed through his body as he thought of the up coming visits.

He was thrilled to see Auguste again after years, but his Uncle in the same house as him, he didn’t know what he would do. Then there was the case of the tag along Auguste was bringing. A kid at the exact age his Uncle liked. He just had to hope that his fathers preference for Auguste would make him step in. Also his Uncle may be a horrible person, but he knew what he could get away with.

A shudder passed through his body and he thumped his head against the closed door as he thought about how he was something his Uncle could get away with. His Uncle knew that he could access him, he knew that his brother didn’t care enough about his youngest son. He didn’t know if he was more hurt or angry he hadn’t noticed it at the time.

Thumping his head against the door once more he made to leave when the door opened.

“I was wondering who was thumping on my door,” Vannes said, stepping aside. “You can come in.”

Laurent stepped inside, wondering where this was going to go. A few months ago he thought that maybe she would give him a lecture on the way he was treating Damen. Now he could tell by the way she spoke and the was she was around him that she wasn’t going to do that. If anything she seemed to be sympathetic towards him.

“We’re only license for Friday and Saturday nights, but I doubt we’ll get in trouble for a few casual after work drinks.”

Vannes directed him to a table and he sat wordlessly whilst she swept back behind the counter. She returned moments later with two beers, one of which was the same black stout he was use to. She placed the beers on the table and then sat down across from him.

“I take it things aren’t going that well at the moment?” Vannes said before taking a long pull from her beer.

“It could be better,” Laurent said, sipping his own beer.

“He hasn’t said anything, but it’s obvious he’s miserable. What happened?”

Laurent toyed with the label on his bottle for a minute, shredding it slightly before answering. “He met my father, but I introduced him as my friend… just a friend.”

“Ouch,” Vannes said, leaning back in her chair.

“It wasn’t because of him. I just don’t want my father knowing because honestly he’s a fucking cunt. I’ve tried to explain this to Damen, but I didn’t exactly articulate myself properly.”

“While I can understand your view point, I can also understand what Damen is going through. It’s not easy being a in a same sex relationship. I should know, my mother refuses to talk to me to this day, even went to the point of burning all my baby pictures. Dad drops me a message every now and then. I think he wants to contact me more but he’s scared of my mother, always was.”

“I sorry,” Laurent said, knowing it was the correct thing to say.

“She’s the one that will be sorry.”

“My father wont be.”

Leaning forward, Vannes clinked her bottle against his. “Drink up,” she said with a smirk.

Laurent felt his mouth twitch into a small smile, the first in what seemed like weeks. He raised the bottle to his lips and drank down the cool, thick liquid.

***

He only had two beers with Vannes. He wasn’t able to hold his drink much more than that and in the end it gave him the slight light headed feeling that he had craved earlier.

Even with only the two beers they had managed to talk for almost two hours. Vannes managed to down four beer in that time but looked completely unaffected by the time she let him out. Laurent was amazed that she could drink twice as much as him but show no affects at all. They left with a promise to go for a run in the morning, something Laurent had been neglecting since his exams and since the fight, even though he had promised he would.

He knew he would have to go, otherwise returning to boxing would be pure hell. If he returned to boxing that was.

Thinking of the boxing classes made him think of Damen and of the messages he had been trying to send. None of them had sounded right, and there was still silence between them. Pulling his phone out of his pocket as he walked, be pulled up the messages between them. The last message being sent was the one from Damen. They one that resulted in the disastrous phone call.

He started typing again, and deleted it all again, until it came it him. He knew exactly what he had to say.

_‘That day you asked me to say something in French and then in Spanish, do you know what I said? I said, ‘I hate that in time I could love you’. I no longer hate that thought. You just have to give me that time.’_

Before he could rethink, he pressed send. Seconds later he turned his phone to silence and went to shove it in his bag. He didn’t want to feel his phone vibrate if Damen replied. Damen replied before he could hide from it.

 _‘I think that if I gave you my heart you would treat it tenderly’_ the message said.

He was walking on the sky all of a sudden and as much as he wanted to reply he didn’t because he couldn’t risk ruining it. If he did reply he would have said something stupid like _‘prepare to have you heart trampled’_ or _‘you’ve already given it you idiot’_. Instead he reviled in the messages and put his phone away. Otherwise he would have been tempted to read the message over and over again.

By the time he returned to his house not even the lights on signifying that his father was awake could ruin his mood. He would simply breeze by him, ignoring everything he said.

It wasn’t until drawing closer that he noticed that there was someone sitting on the front steps. He couldn’t quite make out the figure, but the the smell hit him. It was the familiar smell of a distinct brand of cigarettes. He could taste it in his dreams, with the dry scrap of a tongue against his.

“Laurent,” his Uncle said, standing from the steps and flicking away his cigarette. “It’s so good to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOTE = Language Other Than English. Yup that's what they call it, I always thought it sounded tacky.
> 
> I was going to write other things here, but I have since forgotten. -_- ???
> 
> Oh yeah! I've been working on another one shot. 
> 
> Who wants a depressing Swimming AU? I know I do.
> 
> Hopefully I'll post that in the next few days work allowing!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I'm still working two jobs and trying to figure out a few other things.
> 
> When I started writing this I had one job, no money and more time. Now I have two jobs, lots of money and work six days a week. I can't update as often as I would like. I'm thankful for the people who are understanding of this.
> 
> On the latest chapter. It's a bit heavy and delves a bit into Laurent's abuse, so if you can't handle that, perhaps skip the chapter and I'll give you a summary if you leave a comment, I'll reply with a run down of the chapter.

Laurent's first thought was to call Damen, he stilled in his movements, just for a second, but kept walking. There was the slightest stumble in his step that few would have noticed. But he kept walking, pretending that his uncle wouldn’t have seen. He kept walking, drawing himself closer to that hateful person sitting on the steps of a hollow house.

Numerous thoughts went through his head, most of them about leaving. He thought about turning around and running back to the cafe. His legs itched to turn him around and take him anywhere. There were places he could go, the university would still let people in at late hours. There was that quite place by the creek that he use to sit. And then there was Damen’s place.

He didn’t turn, he didn’t run, instead his steps kept a steady pace until he was standing directly in front of his uncle. It had been years, and these days they looked each other in the eye. He was no longer a prepubescent teenager, but an adult. He was so use to being the smaller of the two that he didn’t know what to make of him now.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ his uncle had said. Pleasantries. His was uncle acting like he always did, that nothing had ever happened. Just like that first morning, when his uncle had sent him off to school with his lunch in hand, acting for all the world like he hadn’t crawled his way into his nephews bed the night before.

Looking him in the eye, all Laurent could think to say was. “The sentiment is not returned.” Then he moved around him, careful not to even let their clothing touch in the slightest. He slithered his way around the offensive body and up the stairs, ignoring the person and the lingering smell of cigarettes that made him want to gag.

The door was thankfully unlocked when Laurent went to push it open. He didn’t think he would have been able to push the keys in the lock if it wasn’t. Once inside, with the door closed behind him, he calmly made his way to his bedroom, pushing out everything around him. It was a feat in itself, not running for his room and slamming the door behind him. Instead he walked, carefully, one foot in front of the other. He counted the steps carefully to a rhythm to make sure he wasn’t rushing. Every step was to display an aura of calm indifference. There was no panic, no anger, just one foot after the other.

When he reached his room, he let the door close with a soft click before sliding the bolt across. It was only after the bolt was in place that he let go. He stumbled to his bed, his breath picking up and catching in his throat. His head started to throb, his throat heavy with the need to scream or choke.

Reaching his bed, he let himself fall down face first and immediately wrapped a pillow around his head. He meant to scream until his throat was raw and strained. Instead he bit down on the pillow, his teeth clashing together and straining even through the material. His breathing was heavy and hot against the pillow, suffocating.

He was hyperventilating, he was aware of that much. Just as he knew that when he started to calm down it was because the hot air he breathed in was more carbon dioxide than oxygen. He knew this, and continued to take in deep gulping breaths until his body stopped shaking from rage and fear.

When he pulled his face away from the pillow with a gasp his room around him seemed too bright. He hadn’t even remembered turning the light on but now it was blinding. Everything was too much, the room was too bright. The sound of traffic outside was deafening, like the cars were roaring directly through his room. His ring tone went off, the sound piercing directly into his brain.

Fumbling for his phone, he found it where he had dropped it on his mattress. He tried to focus on it but instead was distinctly aware of the noises in the house. He could hear foots steps on wooden floors, mumbled conversations felt like they were shouted in his ear. He could hear the clacking of crockery and the rattle of cutlery. Fine china plates being set down onto antique wood. All of it rattled in his head creating a clutter of horrible sounds in his head.

The message tone went off again, the normal two minute refresher tone. He tried to block the noise out and read the message. All he could see was that it was from Damen, he couldn’t process the words. His fingers felt numb as he fumbled with his phone and instead of trying to reply he managed to work the phone enough to press the call button.

He flopped back on his bed with the phone pressed to his ear and his arm wrapped over his eyes. The ring tone was screeching, piercing, sickening.

“Laurent,” Damen breathed on the other end, happiness evident in his tone of voice.

Laurent took a moment to focus on his voice. It had been too long since he heard it last. Damen had only said his name, but it was so different to how everyone else spoke to him, there was affection heavy in his voice. It was calming, and it helped him breath easier.

“Laurent?” Damen said again when he didn’t reply. This time his voice held concern and even that was pleasant to his ear.

“I’m not in a good place,” he said softly, barely a breath.

“What’s wrong?” Damen said, immediately on alert. It hurt, the worry, but it felt good.

“My uncle is here,” he took a moment to let that sink in, more for his own sake than from Damen’s. He thought through the days and realise that his uncle had arrived early, it would still be another six days until Auguste arrived. “He’s early.”

“Is he anything like your father?” Damen growled.

“No, he’s-“ he was going to say worse, but he honestly didn’t know who was worse between his father and his uncle. The man that took advantage of a vulnerable teenager or the man that let it happen. “He’s a different kind of evil.”

“I’ll come over in a second Laurent.”

“No, I… I don’t want you near them. Stop, before you get angry. I just, I want to keep you seperate from them Damen. I know it’s important to you, but, you’re one part of my life, and they’re another.”

Damen was silent on the other end of the line and Laurent wondered if he had made Damen angry again. After a heart thudding moment Damen let out a heavy sigh.

“If- that’s what’s important to you, then I’ll let it be.”

Laurent let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He could tell that Damen still wasn’t exactly happy with the situation, but he wasn’t arguing. They weren’t arguing.

Rolling to his side, Laurent curled into a ball before continuing. “I don’t know who fucked me up more. My uncle or my father.”

“You’re not fucked up Laurent,” Damen said instantly. “You’ve just been hurt.”

Hurt didn’t feel like a big enough word. Hurt was a scrapped knee, hurt didn’t describe what had happened to him.

“Can I see you later tonight?” Laurent said instead, wanting to distract from the topic.

“Any time, you can come over right now if you want.”

He was dearly tempted to just get up and leave then and there. That was until there was a loud knock, followed by someone trying to open the door. The bolt held in place and Lauren felt a self satisfying smirk spread across his face.

“Laurent,” his fathers voice seeping through the door. “Come down stairs immediately, there are things we need to discuss.”

He left, Laurent making sure he heard his foot falls disappear into the distance before he brought the phone back up to his ear.

“Does he always talk to you like that?” Damen asked, disgust evident in his voice.

“No,” Laurent said, uncurling and letting himself stretch, “Usually it’s worse”

“Can I punch him?”

“I would love nothing more, but I really don’t want to see you in jail. One punch can kill, haven’t you seen the ads.”

“You don’t watch TV,” Damen said. There was a small laugh as he spoke.

“No, but you do. I have to go.” They sat in a light silence, neither of them willing to let the other go.

“I’ve missed you,” Damen said, breaking the silence.

“I’ll see you soon,” Laurent said, hanging up the phone and putting them both out of their misery.

…

Laurent made sure he was presentable before unlocking the door and heading out. Making his way through the house he found his father and his uncle sitting in the dining room. His father sat at the head of the table, his uncle to his right. There was a lavish roast dinner, lamb from the smell of it, laid out before them. There was mashed and baked potatoes, mushy peas, roasted pumpkin and a pile of steamed beans. There was also a dish of cauliflower and broccoli, baked in a cheese sauce. All of it was seasoned and there was far too much food there for three people.

The student in Laurent was already assessing how long he could stretch the left over food. Knowing his father, the left over food would be thrown away. Laurent made a note to make sure to package up as much of the food as he could.

Making his way around the room, he picked a seat at the other end of the table, far from both of them. “I didn’t know you were such a hand in the kitchen,” he said sitting down.

“I’ve contacted Loyse and asked her to return for the next few weeks.”

Loyse was the housekeeper his father had employed years ago. She had tended to the house and cooked dinner years earlier. Back when his mother was still alive and when Auguste lived at home. In other words, when people he actually cared about lived in the house.

“How nice of you to throw her a bone after you dismissed her.”

“Well there was no real need to keep her around was there?”

His father made a show of pouring himself a glass of wine and then another for his brother. His uncle sat there, sitting to the side, taking a sip of the blood red wine. Laurent knew his uncle, more than his father thought he did. He hated that he was sitting to the side and not at the head of the table. His outdated ideals of authority would have hurt his ego.

Just like it would have hurt when his father pulled the roast lamb towards him and started to carve slices from it. Their traditional ideals would have been amusing if it was anyone else. But it was two of the most egotistical, selfish people Laurent had ever had the displeasure of knowing. It was pathetic in a way.

His father dished out the meat onto three plates and them similarly plated the array of vegetables. His father handed his uncle a plate, Laurent’s was pushed across the table, landing just out of reach so that he had to get up and reach for it. Laurent pulled his plate towards him and then sat, making no move to pick up the cutlery.

He refused to eat, instead watched as his father and his uncle ate quietly with perfect table manners. No elbows on tables, small bites, perfectly steady chews. Sickening. Laurent left his meal untouched, even though his stomach was empty aside from the two beers he had consumed with Vannes. It was only a few hours ago that he was sitting with her. It felt like days.

“Well,” Laurent said, pushing away the plate. “What exactly did we need to discuss. I don’t have all night and there are things I would much rather be doing.”

His father stopped eating, putting his cutlery down neatly. Laurent took note of the position of his cutlery, the placement suggesting that he was not finished eating. His uncle continued to eat, stopping occasionally to sip at his wine. When he did he glanced sideways at Laurent, the smirk wasn't showing but obvious still.

“Let me start for you, ‘Laurent, while you’re brother is here, be nice to your rapist’,” Turning to look at his uncle, Laurent started up again, this time impersonating his father’s voice. “ ‘And brother, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let you’re kidding fiddling tendencies show around my favoured son’.”

He picked up his fork and speared a baked potato, doing nothing more with it than picking it up and scrutinising it. “Loyse still make her potatoes the same, I always thought she used a little too much garlic.”

At the other end of the table his father was sitting ramrod straight, his anger obvious.

“Did I miss something?” he said, flicking the potato from his folk and letting it thump to the table. It rolled around leaving a trail of butter and garlic.

His uncle put down his own cutlery, taking a moment to pat at his face with a napkin and take another sip of wine. “You forgot the part where you use to beg me not to leave you. Perhaps that’s something else we should not bring up.”

Laurent stabbed the fork into the table hard enough that it stuck into the hard antique furniture.

“Yes,” Laurent managed to push out. “Let’s not mention that you are a grown adult that takes advantage of mourning, vulnerable children.”

“Enough of this,” his father said, standing up. Laurent knew that he believed he was a figure of authority, but no one at that table respected him.

“If we’re done here,” Laurent said, standing himself. “I have other places to be.”

“Where could you possibly have to go?” his father sneered.

“I’m going to a friends house.”

“The wog?” his father said, spitting out the word.

“Yes, him,” he was so close to telling his father who Damen really was, it would anger him so much to know. “I have other friends too. You’d love Vannes, she’s got a wonderful girlfriend too.”

With that Laurent stood from the table and made his way back to his bedroom. Grabbing his phone from where he had left it on his bed he sent Damen a quick message to say that he was on his way.

He packed his bag on automatic, not taking note of what exactly he was shoving into it. He had to pull it all out when he realised he had filled it with nothing but socks and underwear. Starting anew he managed to put actually clothing into it along side the socks and underwear.

Out of habit he went to pack his notes and textbooks before remembering that he wasn’t just finished with school for the year, but finished with business in general. He let the books tumble to the ground and was satisfied with the pile of disarray he created. He did however pack his laptop, just in case.

He made to leave several times, turning back every time thinking that he had forgotten something. He had in fact forgotten his phone charger so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Then he found himself grabbing a second bag and packing extra things. His favourite books, small tokens of sentimental value that he had collected over time. Things he wanted with him incase his father decided to come into his room.

After another few moments of double checking, he shouldered his bags and made to leave. The house was silent as he made his way through the rooms. The dining room was empty with nothing but the lingering smell of roast lamb hanging in the air. He thought for a moment about grabbing some of the left overs, but figured it was too late, his father would have already thrown it all away.

His uncle was sitting on the front steps again as he left the house. He was smoking and Laurent once again tasted the tobacco in his mouth. He could smell a million different brands of cigarette and not tell the difference between them. But he could always point out the exact brand of his uncle’s cigarettes.

“I’ll see you in a few days, Laurent,” his uncle said as he stepped around him.

“A few days too soon.”

“Please, send my regards to your boyfriend.”

He kept walking, refusing to acknowledge what his uncle had just said. He meant to walk to Damen's, but he didn’t want to be left alone that long with his thoughts. Approaching his car he quickly threw his bags into the car, trying not to let himself panic.

He didn’t know how he had managed to act so calm during his fathers dinner, how he had managed to speak so openly. Now that it was over he felt that he was falling apart, piece by tiny piece, like particles sand blown away in the wind. His uncles parting words made him wonder if he was even capable of driving a car. For not only did he know his uncle better than his father, his uncle could see things about him that no one else noticed.

Damen’s apartment wasn't far, he had to control himself until them. When he pulled the car out of the driveway he tried his hardest not to look back at the house. But he did anyway, and his uncle was there on the steps, waving and smiling at him like he wasn’t the devil incarnate. Briefly, he thought about turning the car around and driving straight into the house, running over his uncle.

He thought over and over again about his uncles face under the wheels of his car. His face crushing, blood smearing over the wheels, flecks of bone and mucus splashing the windscreen. The images helped distract him while he drove on automatic. Damon’s place wasn't far, he just had to make it there.

When he did pull up in front of Damen’s apartment he got out quickly, leaving his bags behind. He took the stairs up to the apartment two at a time. He tried not to sound too desperate as he knocked at Damen’s door.

All thoughts of remaining calm were thrown out the window the moment the door was open. He didn’t even catch a glimpse of Damen’s face as he wrapped his arms around the body in front of him. Damen returned the gesture and they stumbled through the doorway, the door slamming shut behind him. Damen was safety. The whole day was a mess except for this one moment.

“I missed you,” Damen said, speaking into his hair.

“Same.”

They separated and as was usual, Damen leaned down to peak him softly on the lips. Still in a blur, Laurent leaned into it like he always did. That was until he felt the soft brush of harsh bristles against his lips and he flung himself back with such force his head cracked against the door. He hit the wood hard and his head rang with the pain.

“Laurent?” Damen said, taking a step forward.

It had been two weeks since he had seen Damen, in that time Damen had grown a beard. It was too much, with the whole night and seeing his uncle again. Feeling whiskers pressed against his mouth was something he couldn’t handle. When Damen took another step forward, Laurent panicked and started to fumble at the door handle, his hands unable to gain purchase.

“Woah, woah,” Damen said, taking a step back his hands held up. “Calm down. I wont touch you!”

Finding himself unable to open the door, Laurent pressed himself into the corner between the door and the wall and tried to control his breathing.

“What’s wrong? What can I do?”

“If you ever want to touch me again,” Laurent said, his chest heaving in panicked breaths. “You’ll shave that shit off of your face.”

“Okay,” Damen said, his eyes wide. He took another step back, his hands still held up. “Just, take a seat, I’ll take care of it. Okay?”

Laurent could only nod as Damen backed up into his room and with one final glance entered his bathroom. When he was out of sight Laurent managed to calm himself down. His heart still beat harshly in his chest, thumping against his ribs and causing his whole body to throb. Clutching at his chest, he made his way through the kitchen and into the living room where he slumped down onto the couch.

He didn’t know how long he sat there waiting for Damen to return. Every time he tried to regain control of his thoughts he felt himself slip again. All he could think about was the press of whiskered lips to his, the drag of a nicotine stained tongue.

“Laurent?”

He jumped at the sound, turning to see Damen standing in the kitchen looking at him. His face was still damp, but freshly shaven. Laurent sagged in relief and turned back around, focusing on the ground.

“Can I sit next to you?”

Laurent nodded and placed his head in his hands, blocking out the world. He could still feel it though, when Damen sat next to him. The couch sagged, dipping to the left and forcing his body to lean towards Damen. He shuffled away, pressing himself against the arm of the couch, forcing himself as far away from Damen as he could.

“You know, at first, I just thought that it was inexperience,” Damen said, breaking the silence. “I told myself it was nerves and that I just had to be patient, because it was a new experience for you.”

Laurent said nothing, bringing his legs up and curling further into the couch.

“Over time, I noticed other things, and I didn’t like where my thoughts went. And even when I was sure, I wanted to leave it up to you. I wanted you to tell me when you were ready.” Damen stopped talking, maybe hoping Laurent would say something. When he didn’t Damen continued. “Laurent, what just happened. You were terrified of me, and I don’t ever want to cause you that again.”

Damen sighed and Laurent could feel and hear the movement of the couch. Even though he wasn’t looking, he knew that Damen was rubbing his hands over his face.

“Laurent, I need you to tell me what happened to you. Who hurt you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for reading. Sorry for any mistakes and feel free to point them out. I will at one point get a beta and I've already had some people offer their services, (I will contact you soon I swear). 
> 
> In other news I posted another one-shot if anyone is interested. I have seen many of you usual commenters there though, many thanks to you :)
> 
> Anyway, sorry if it seems a bit rushed, I try, but I have limited time.
> 
> Thanks and hope to see you next chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No. 1, sorry it took so long.  
> No. 2, sorry it's so shit.  
> No. 3, it took so long and it's shit because it was an impossible chapter to write and these two just kept arguing with each other. And I work a lot, there is that.  
> No. 4, sorry I haven't replied to any of your lovely messages. I'm usually pretty on top of that but this time it just didn't happen. I don't know why and I promise I won't do it again. I really appreciate all of you so don't think that I don't!
> 
> I hope I'l get something better to you next time.

There was a hole in the wall. A hole that wasn’t there moments earlier, a hole that mere seconds ago enclosed Damen’s hand. After punching a hole in the wall, Damen had walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaving Laurent in silence.

He felt that this was all the confirmation he needed, that he should get up and let himself out. Considering the way that Damen hadn't said a word to him after he finished talking, leaving was the only realistic action left to him. Yet he felt himself unable to move, his whole body was drained, settled into physical and mental exhaustion so deep it was impossible.

Damen was still in the bathroom, the door firmly shut, and Laurent hoped that he would be able to get a hold of himself long enough to get up and leave before he returned. He wondered if Damen was waiting for him to leave, so that he could exit the bathroom in peace. He wondered if Damen was waiting for him to leave so that he wouldn’t have to face the filth that he was.

“He’s not like that,” Laurent found himself whispering. “Just wait. Just two more minutes.”

Two minutes passed and Laurent kept whispering to himself. Just a few more minutes, and then he would leave. He wondered where he could go. He could sleep in his car if need be, there were couches in the library at the University, he could lay there and say he was having a nap between studies. No one would think to check that he was finished for the year, he could say he was part of the summer program, trying for extra credit.

He was already thinking of all the canned foods he could live off of for the next week when Damen reappeared. His face and his hair was wet, small drops of water dripping from his curls. Laurent imagined he was trying to clean himself from his touch. He was staring at Laurent, straight, with complete focus, and it was enough to finally force Laurent to his feet.

“I’ll leave,” he said, standing even though he felt absent from himself. He felt light, distant. The conscious part of his mind was battling with itself. Telling him simultaneously to leave and to stay.

“No,” Damen said, shuffling out of the doorway and into the light of the kitchen.

Now that he was closer and under the light Laurent noticed a few things. Not just the dripping hair, but the way that Damen was hunched over, looking so much smaller. He was quivering slightly and his eyes were bloodshot and wet.

“You cried?” Laurent asked softly in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Damen said, trying to smile, only to have it fall from his face. “It was just… hard to hear.”

“Hard to hear was it?” Laurent snapped. “It wasn’t exactly easy to tell.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left. I just, needed a moment.”

“You needed a moment?!”

Feeling lost as to what to do next Laurent made for the door, stopped, turned back around and then went for the door again.

“I don’t know what to do,” He said.

“Neither do I.”

“You punched the wall.”

“And I want to punch it again.”

They stared across the room at each other, Damen looking perfectly miserable as they did. Laurent thought again about making to leave. Damen however stepped forward and slowly, carefully, like approaching a scared animal, reached out and offered his hand.

Laurent liked to think he would have hesitated at such a gesture, and in the past he would have. Now he stepped forward quickly and took hold of the offered hand. He let himself be pulled forwards and didn’t think as Damen held him, wrapping his arms around him so tight it almost hurt.

It was so different from the other times Damen had held him. It was tight and desperate, Damen’s hands practically clawing at him. Laurent stayed where he was, pressed against Damen’s chest. Damen seemed to be trying to touch ever inch of him, as if to assure himself that Laurent was still there.

Laurent pulled away and looked at Damen, his eyes still red and dewy, like tears would spring forth at any second.

“You said you knew?” Laurent said softly, resting his hand softly on Damen’s cheek.

“I suspected. It’s different hearing about it,” Damen replied, raising his hand to rest it against Laurent’s hand still pressed to his cheek.

“I bet a lot of stuff makes senses now.”

“Doesn’t make this any easier.”

“For you or of me?”

“For either of us. I’m sorry, for asking and for leaving. I thought I was ready. Shit,” Damen breathed, pulling away. “I wasn’t really thinking about you then. I just… Laurent, you were so scared of me.”

“If I had it my way you would never have known,” Laurent said, moving away to sit back down on the couch. “But, I knew, that at some point, I would have had to of told you.”

Cautiously, Damen moved towards the couch and sat down with a noticeable gap between them.

Noticing that Damen was incapable of continuing the conversation Laurent started to talk. “I’m not happy about it,” he said. “But, it needed to be said, and if left to my own devises, nothing would have happened. At least things are out in the open.”

“What now?” Damen asked.

“I don’t know.”

After minutes of silence, Damen reached over and took his hand. “You’re not going back there?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Fuck that, you’re moving in here.” Damen said, his grip on his hand tightening.

“Be realistic Damen, I have no income, no way to support myself. I have no skill set and to top it all off, no real direction.”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Once,” Laurent said, pulling his hands from Damen’s grip. “It didn’t end well.”

“Laurent, we should go to the police,” Damen said. He said it softly, like explaining a simple task to a child.

“Aren’t you going to ask me who I told?”

Damen pulled away and rubbed his hands over his face before asking. “Who did you tell?”

“My father,” Laurent said quickly. “And do you know what he said?”

“What?” said Damen in a whisper.

“He told me not to speak of it ever again, said he would take care of it. And he did, in a way. My uncle came back for one last taste, and then he never touched me again.”

“Fuck,” Damen said, pressing his palms into his eyes. “We should still go to the police.”

“There’s no point, my father has money, and he’s made it clear he will stand with his bother. Money is more powerful than justice in this world.”

“People like him don’t just stop!” Damen spat, standing up so he could pace around the room. “Who know’s how many others he has hurt? Who else he has attacked!”

“I studied law, Damen!” Laurent said, standing himself. “I know what people like him get. Twelve years at the very most, most of the time they don’t even get that much! He’d be out in two years, doing what he always does.”

“Why’re you giving up? You don’t just give up!”

Striding across the the room, Laurent pushed himself straight into Damen’s face before yelling, “Because when your own father tells you it’s nothing, it’s hard to believe anyone else would give a shit!”

“Fuck this,” Damen said stepping back. “I’ll report him myself.”

“It’s not your story to tell, Damianos!”

He stopped in his path, turning slowly to face Laurent. “He can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you know what it’s like? To be told what happened to you doesn’t matter?”

“And I’m telling you that it does matter. All it takes is one voice.”

“My voice isn’t that strong.”

“Why do you think that of yourself!?” Damen yelled.

“Haven’t you been listening at all!? My own father, told me to forget it!”

“He’s just one person, Laurent.”

“You don’t get it. You don’t get how much power my father has, how much power they both have.”

“If money is the problem then I have it.”

Laurent scoffed and turned his back, cradling his arms around him. “I’m sure you’re a successful business man, Damen. But a boxing gym compared to what my father has isn’t much.”

“No, you don’t understand. I own more than twenty gyms around the state. Seventeen of them are successful, of course sometimes in business it’s for the best to have a few of them running at a loss. I’m sure you’d understand having studied the subject. I also have a number of investment properties and a number of deals with property developers. I’m rich in my own right, and in time, I’m taking my brother down and claiming what is mine. If money is power, then trust me, I have power.”

Laurent turned around slowly, his arms still wrapped tightly around himself. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t important to me. Really I was on a rampage when I moved here, I took a lot of risks and it just happened to work out for me.”

“How much are you worth?”

“A lot.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“I don’t want it either. I’ve got more than enough to last two life times.”

Laurent managed to step back enough to settle back on the couch. The revelation that Damen was most likely a millionaire was too much to add to the rest of the night.

“Why do you live here then?” Laurent asked quietly.

“It’s all I need. My quest to make money, it was unfounded. I just wanted to earn enough to take on my brother in court. But then it kept building and building, and, it was something to focus on. It wasn’t until recently that I started to take a step back. Most of the other businesses are run by other people, my accountant works the money and I pay the accountant.”

Damen sat down next to him, again leaving a noticeable gap between the two of them. Laurent tried to process everything he had just heard, and think of what to do next.

“I will do anything I can to help you, Laurent,” Damen whispered, stretching his hand out as an offer.

Laurent took his hand tentatively before replying softly. “We haven’t know each other that long.”

Damen’s hand curled around his holding him softly. “It’s not about the time frame, it’s about the feeling.”

“I don’t know what I feel sometimes.”

“I know what I feel.”

“What do you feel?”

“Something different. Like I’m standing at the edge of an abyss with only the wind pushing me back. I feel breathless and scared, but eager. I want to fall.”

“You really shouldn’t compare someone to falling off of a cliff,” Laurent mumbled, shuffling closer.

“Falling in love is the biggest plunge we take,” Damen said, pulling him close. Laurent immediately rested his head on Damen’s shoulder.

“Love is such a strong word.”

“You’ve used it yourself.”

“That I have.”

Laurent let himself sink against Damen, his arms coming to life to wrap around him. One reached across his chest while the other squirmed between Damen’s back and the couch until it popped out the other side. In no time, Damen was stroking softly at his hair, twirling the ends between his fingers like he always did.

“What now?” Damen said, his movements never stilling.

“Now, you give me time to decide.”

“How long?”

Laurent closed his eyes and pressed his face to Damen’s chest, blocking out the light. How long would it take? He would have to set himself some kind of deadline. Something realistic for himself and without being too far away for Damen to asking again.

“Auguste,” Laurent said, his voice muffled into against Damen’s chest.

“What?”

“Wait, until Auguste has left. I just need to get through this visit.”

“So you’re going back there?” Damen growled.

“Not tonight, but in time yes. I don’t want Auguste here when the shit hits the fan. I’ll keep up the pretence that I have for years, and once he’s gone then I’ll… then we’ll decide what to do next.”

“I don’t like this,” Damen said pulling him closer. His movements became desperate again, his hands pulling Laurent tighter.

“You know I’m staying here and sponging off of you until then right?” Laurent said, attempting to lighten the mood.

It worked as Damen chuckled softly before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “That’s fine, what would you like to sponge off of me first?”

“You’re body heat. I want to go to bed, and do exactly what we are doing right now.”

“Alright then,” Damen said, standing up and lifting Laurent with him. It took him no effort at all to heft Laurent until he was firmly over his shoulder.

“What do you think you are doing?” Laurent wheezed as Damen’s solid shoulder dug into his stomach.

“I’m not letting go of you for a second,” Damen said, easily carrying him to the bedroom.

True to his word, they reached the bedroom and there was not a single second that Damen let go of him. Even as they undressed and got ready for the night, Damen was always there, holding him in one way or the other. Even as they curled under a single sheet, Damen always had one hand on him at all times.

“Is this what the next few days are going to be like?” Laurent mumbled into the dark, his face pressed firmly between Damen’s neck and shoulder.

“Consider it your payment for services rendered. Those services being anything you ask for.”

“And if I asked you to let go?”

“Then ask me,” Damen said, his hold loosening slightly.

Laurent said nothing for a moment, instead letting his hand trail slowly down Damen’s chest. When reaching his navel he slide his hand across and wrapped it around Damen’s waist.

“It is a price I will gladly pay.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the lack of updates, and I'm not sure if this is what you all expected after such a long hiatus.
> 
> I hope I'll be able to update next week and I'm terribly sorry for such an awful update. 
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes but this is rushed and I'm bad at checking things over any way.

After several days of staying at Damen’s apartment, Laurent wasn’t finding it hard to imagine moving in with him. Mostly he slept, but it was the quality of the sleep. He had never slept so long or so comfortably.

He usually woke in the morning to Damen’s alarm. The first morning he tried to rise with Damen, but it was all too easy when Damen caressed his sleep mussed face and whispered for him to go back to sleep. It was reminiscent of months earlier when Damen had done the same thing, returning hours later with coffee.

He rolled over into the warmth Damen had left behind. Curling himself into the sheets and sighing in content with the feel of Damen’s fingers running through his hair. He slept the morning away, only to awake several hours later to Vannes kicking the door down. Damen following after her with a helpless look on his face.

“You could have at least let me know you weren’t going to be there!” she said. She let herself in and flopped down on the bed next to him.

Still some what fogged by sleep, Laurent sat up slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. As Damen sat down on the bed next to him, pushing a warm cup of coffee into his hand, he remembered. At some point he had agreed to go on a morning run with Vannes. But the night hadn’t gone as planned.

Now that he was awake and had a steaming cup of good black coffee in his hand, he was able to make out what Vannes was saying. So far he could gather that Vannes had knocked on his door that morning and met his father. He felt bad that Vannes had to go through that, and that he had forgotten. But hearing Vannes curse out his father was almost worth it.

“God he was such an arsehole!” Vannes said, throwing her arms in the air.

But the time she was done, the coffee had kicked in. Laurent still hadn't said anything and was more concerned with leaning against Damen. He smelt like sweat, coffee, a faint smell of dark chocolate and an underlaying scent of aftershave. It was Damen’s smell and it was a comfort he could lean into.

When the coffee cup was empty, he placed it gently on the carpet and lay back down, dragging Damen down with him. It was only a double bed, but the three of the managed to fit. Unfurling himself from the sheets, Laurent threw the covers over Damen and then offered what excess was left to Vannes.

“Damn right I’m going to take your sheets,” Vannes said, pulling the sheets over herself.

Once she had the sheet tucked in she rolled over and pressed herself up against Laurent’s side. He couldn’t help tensing, but then Damen pressed against him as well, wrapping an arm around his waist.

The three of them curled under the covers and Laurent found himself pressed against Vannes’ short hair. Damen was pressing small kisses into his hair, and Laurent found himself doing the same to Vannes. He kissed her hair once and then rested his chin on top of her head.

“The night didn’t go as planned,” said Laurent.

“That’s a fucking given,” said Vannes, pressing back against him.

“He really is an arsehole isn’t he?” Laurent sighed. Damen’s grip on him tightened, his lips feathering against the shell of his ear.

“The biggest, fucking, douche bag I’d ever met. I mean, I thought my mother was an arsehole, and trust me she is, but your father is next level.”

“I didn’t mean for you to ever meet him.”

“I’m noticing that you’re avoiding an apology here.”

Instead of replying, Laurent rolled over and pressed his face into Damen’s chest, inhaling the smell of him. Damen had run his fingers through his hair and pushed them closer together.

“It was a hard night,” said Damen.

Vannes huffed and rolled over, wrapping her arms around Laurents waist and pulling herself close. “I guess it’s okay,” she said.

Laurent found himself breathing heavily and his emotions were becoming hard to control. Damen noticed and pressed a firm kiss to his temple, whispering so softly in his ear that it would be okay.

It wasn’t just the revelations of the previous night that were whirling through his head, but Damen and Vannes. Six months ago he never thought that he could be in a loving healthy relationship. He never even dreamed of having friends. But there he found himself with both and he didn’t think he could ever feel so whole again.

***

Having finished university for the year and having no other obligations to attend to, Laurent spent a lot of his time sleeping. He would wake every morning to the sound of the Damen’s alarm and every time Damen would pat his hair and whisper for him to go back to sleep.

He got use to sleeping in, knowing that in a few hours Damen would return with coffee. He neglected his usual morning classes at the boxing studio and let himself lounge at his own leisure. After the fourth day Damen dragged him out of the house and forced him to attend an afternoon class.

Damen claimed that he didn’t want Laurent’s hard work to go to waste. Laurent thought it was more Damen’s own work that he didn’t want to go to work. It was true that he had been lounging around and grudgingly he went along to an afternoon class.

Nik was at the counter as always and as they walked in together Laurent whispered in Damen’s ear that he thought Nik’s neck was disappearing. Damen stifled a laugh and then pushed him out on the floor telling him to start warming up.

As he stretch and skipped away his warm up, he noticed Nik and Damen talking to a nervous looking young man. He realised that the person was the young Pallas. After a few more words, Nik pushed Pallas to the front of the class and returned to the counter. Damen stepped back, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall to wall mirrors.

Nervously at first, Pallas lead his first class. He started off timid, but by the end of the class he was just as loud and demanding as the rest of them. He led the class though a horrible weave between swaying punching bags and then had them run out the front door and around the block. When they were done they had to do twenty jumping jacks, twenty burpees and twenty push ups before starting all over.

At the end of the class, after a gruelling five minute plank, Laurent lay on his back panting for breath. Pallas looked overly pleased with himself, Damen looked proud of his latest trainer, and Nik looked constipated.

After clapping Pallas on the shoulder, Damen walked over and offered Laurent his hand. It was unusual for Damen to approach Laurent during a class, liking to keep their relationship and the business seperate.

Yet when he pulled Laurent up, he kept on pulling and kissed Laurent in front of the whole class. Still not use to public displays, Laurent pulled away and looked around. There were a group of girls in the corner looking heart broken, a couple of teenage boys were standing gob smacked, Pallas was grinning and giving a huge thumbs up. Nik was making dry retch noises.

“What are you doing?” Laurent said, his voice low.

“Letting everyone know how much I love you,” Damen said. His smile said it all.

“Nikandros looks like he’s about to have a conniption.”

“That’s just what his face looks like.”

Laurent found himself laughing and wrapping his arms around Damen’s neck, pulling him back in for another kiss. He felt light, his limbs loose and throbbing from the work out. But all he could really feel was the press of Damen’s lips and the light touch of his hand on the back of his neck. It was easy for him to forget that another life existed outside of Damen.

“What did you think of Pallas’ first class?” Damen said.

They were sitting at the bar of their usual cafe, over looking the water and ignoring Vannes making kissy faces at them behind the counter.

“I think he was trying a bit too hard at the end, but it was a vast improvement to the beginning. I thought he was going to wet himself. He needs some balance, but in time he will be fine.”

“He’s determined, he’s doing well in his junior league but he's more interested in training. I’d be happy to offer him a full time position when he finishes high school.”

“Now that I know that you have all these other businesses, what I want to know is why you’re so invested in this one?” Laurent took a moment to sip his coffee and watch in amusement as a duck and a crow faced off over a piece of bread. “You spend most of your time there, your best friend’s work there and you’re training someone up to work there.”

“It’s where I started,” Damen said. He drained his own coffee and signalled to Vannes for another one. She gave him the finger but started making it anyway. “This place feels more like home than any place I’ve ever been. This is the place I want to focus on, the place I want to work more than anywhere else.”

Vannes delivered Damen’s coffee at the moment, bringing an extra one for Laurent which she delivered with a wink. Once again he felt a rush of feeling, realising that he had a friend and that she was giving him free coffee, swearing at him over text and forcing him on morning runs.

“I’ve started, selling off some my other businesses,” Damen said.

“What?” Laurent said snapping his attention away from Vannes who was making faces behind another customers back.

“It’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a while. I don’t want to have to be flying interstate constantly anymore, I haven’t been doing that for months anyway. This is where I want to be. I’m sick of it all. All I want is my small boxing gym and you.”

Laurent practically choked on his coffee. As he spluttered on his drink, he made sure to blame it on the heat of the beverage. When Damen wasn’t looking, he smiled into his coffee and thought of better days to come.

***

Normally Damen was awake and up and about before Laurent. But it was the Friday of Auguste’s arrival and Damen had taken the morning off. There was no alarm to interrupt their sleep and the two of them were free to sleep the morning away. Damen slept deep and Laurent woke to the sound of his deep rumbling breaths.

It was simple, but it felt complicated. Laurent didn’t know what happened between him waking and him straddling Damen and kissing him awake. It was natural, it was all about the feeling, it just happened.

They moved on automatic, desperate and fast, but their touches were gentle. Laurent was the one to push Damen’s shirt up first, his hands splaying over his toned chest with obvious admiration. Damen was slower, pushing Laurent’s shirt up bit by bit, his thumbs slowly caressing over every extra inch of skin that was revealed.

“Is this okay?” Damen asked after leaning up to kiss a line up the exposed skin.

“It’s… fine,” Laurent said. He was too busy focusing on the feel of Damen’s lips and the way that their hips ground together. “I’ve never done this before.” He meant it as a claim that it was something that wasn’t ruined for him. Damen took it as a challenge and grabbed his hips, grounding him down in a way that had Laurent feeling limp.

“Does it feel good?” Damen asked. He pushed them together again, the force a little harsher.

“Too good,” Laurent said. With shaking hands, Laurent pushed his pants down. He didn’t have to do anything else, as with quiet permission, Damen took over and made everything an experience to remember.

They spent most of their day laying in bed. Laurent rose at one point to make the both them omelettes. Damen claimed it was the best thing he had ever eaten and Laurent pointed out that it was the only thing he could make. Laurent figured the reason for Damen’s biased was because he cooked whilst wearing nothing but one of Damen’s work out singlets. Of course Damen took ever opportunity that he could.

The day would have been perfect if it wasn’t for the fact that Laurent had to return to his father and uncle that evening. He stayed as long as he could, but when Auguste text him with the announcement that they had touched down and would be there within the next two hours, Laurent unfurled himself from Damen’s side.

They showered together, and held each other close the whole time. It felt like they were leaving for oceans apart when really they would only be streets away.

“I don’t want you to go back to that,” Damen said, as Laurent brushed out his wet hair.

“It’ll be different with Auguste there. Our father actually gives two shits about him.”

“That doesn’t excuse anything.”

“No,” Laurent said. He made his way out of the bathroom and made sure he had everything he needed packed for his return home. “But it will be easier. My uncle still lives under my father’s thumb as much as he despises it. And even if he doesn’t realise it Auguste has father under his thumb.”

“At least let me drive you there.”

Laurent sighed and shrugged his bag onto his shoulder. “My car is here, I don’t need you to drive me.”

“I want to,” Damen said. He ran his hand up Laurent’s back, letting it rest on the base of his neck.

“You just want a chance to stare down my father and my uncle.”

“I want to strangle them to be honest,” Damen said  
  
“If you can control yourself I’ll let you drive me there.”

“Control myself?” Damen said, dropping his hand.

“Don’t kill either of them.”

Damen looked like he was facing a moral dilemma. He was easy to read and Laurent saw a number of different emotions flit across Damen’s face. Anger, disgust, sadness and anger again.

“Give me time,” Laurent said. He stepped closer and gave Damen a quick peck on the lips. “Remember, it’s my story to tell.”

Damen rested his hands on Laurent’s shoulders and let the run down his arms until he held both of his hands. “I’ll control myself, but can I at least glare at them?”

“Glare away.”

He let Damen drive him, holding his hand the whole way. It no longer felt like they were moving oceans away, but more like they were about to face a death sentence. Laurent felt full up to his throat, that it a moment he would expel the perfectly made omelette he had made earlier.

Damen’s hand was his life line, and the fear he felt was diminished when he remember that Damen already knew. He knew the worst part of him, he knew what had happened to him and he had faced Laurent at his worst. He had suffered with Laurent and he had been nothing but supportive. He clutched Damen’s hand, drew in a deep breath, and in the end, it would all be okay.

When they pulled up, both his father and his uncle were sitting out the front of the house. His uncle was smoking, a brand and a taste that Laurent would remember for the rest of his days. But for once the sight didn’t make him shudder in disgust. Instead he gripped Damen’s hand tighter as they pulled up next to the curb.

“Now’s your chance to glare at both of them.” Laurent said as Damen parked the car.

Damen did exactly that as Laurent gathered his bag and stepped out of the car. Leaning down through the open door, Laurent squeezed his hand one more time before letting go.

“I’ll text you tonight,” Laurent said.

“If you need me I’ll be here in a second.”

“I know you will.” Laurent pulled away and shut they door. They shared one final look through the glass and then Laurent was walking away, walking towards the two people he hated most in his short, sad life. He stopped in front of the two of them and chanced one glance back towards Damen.

Laurent was able to catch the hated look before Damen drove away.

“I see you’ve got yourself a guard dog,” his father said.

His uncle smiled at him, having already guessed the real relationship between the two of them. His smile said a number of things, but the most obvious thoughts were ‘I know something’ ‘I know your secret’.

His uncle was hoping that it was something he could hold over him, something he could threaten him with. In the past it may have worked, if it was anyone else but Damen things may have been different.

“I’ve got myself a boyfriend,” Laurent said. “Not a guard dog, although he fits both roles.”

Laurent pushed himself between his father and his uncle and made his way into the house. He couldn’t help the smile on his face when he heard rushed movement behind him. The smile didn’t slip from his face for a second when his father spun him around and slammed him against the hallway wall with one hand.

“You will behave yourself in the next few days. If you don’t, believe me when I say things will turn out badly for you.”

Behind them, his uncle let himself in, resting against the doorway and watching the two of them with a sense of detachment.

“You know,” Laurent said, turning to glance at his uncle. “I always wondered if you were more concerned that your brother was into small children or small boys in particular. Now I know my answer.”

“This is what I mean when I say you need to behave yourself,” Aleron hissed.

Laurent stood tall and smacked his father’s hand from his shoulder. For the first time he looked at his father eye to eye. “I’m not the one that needs to behave themselves.” Laurent said calmly. Pulling away, Laurent shrugged his bag back onto his shoulder. “You need to behave yourself and pretend that you give two shits about me in front of Auguste and his soon to be wife.”

Moving down the hallway towards his bedroom, Laurent turned back to look his uncle dead in the eye. “And you, need to control your dick when it come to underage boys. It’s not up to me or either of you. It’s up to Auguste.”

He closed the door to his room, and with satisfaction he slid the lock into place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Mari!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for regular updates!
> 
> Hopefully it's not to terrible and I thank you all in advance for making it to the end of the chapter!

Laying on his bed, Laurent looked around his room and marvelled over the fact that it didn’t feel like his room any more. Those were his books, and his desk, he lay on his bed but it didn’t feel like home. While his room never really held a personal touch besides an always growing accumulation of books, now it just felt like a room.

He had only spent a little under a week at Damen’s unit. But before that he had been spending less and less time in his own house. Slowly, his home didn’t feel like it was his. Yet it hadn’t felt like his home in a long time. It was just a place he lived, it hadn’t been a home in years.

Rolling over, he pulled his phone from his back pocket. He already had two text messages from Damen. One from just moments after he had dropped Laurent off, another from just a minute early. They read:

_‘I miss you already :’(‘_

_‘let me know that youre okay i’ll be there in a second’_

Laurent felt himself smiling as he opened up his messages to tell Damen that he was fine, that he begrudgingly missed him too. After a moment of hesitancy he mentioned that he couldn’t wait to get back to him. He neglected to bring up the part where Damen felt like home.

He spent the next twenty minutes rolling around on his bed, texting Damen back and forth. He even sent a message to Vannes informing her that all morning runs she had any intention of forcing on him were cancelled for the foreseeable future.

Her response was a predictable emoji of the middle finger. He sent her the same thing back and then went back to texting Damen. He was trying his hardest not to smile so brightly and then realising over and over, that he didn’t have to hide his smile.

He was eventually brought back to reality when the door handle turned and the door shuddered as someone tried to open the bolted door. He smiled to himself again and sent a quick message to Damen that he had to go. He stretched languidly as he got up from the bed, taking his time to walk to the door and slide the lock back.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Laurent said when faced with his father.

“Auguste has arrived.”

He looked exceptionally stiff and almost like his brains were about to boil out of his ears. The image made Laurent smile even harder, although there was a sinister look to it compared to the smiles he was sending to his phone moments earlier.

He was proud that he had caused this reaction in his father. Normally his father’s behaviour towards him was somewhere between distain and disinterest.

“Be sure to behaviour yourself,” his father said.

“Now father, you are sounding like a broken record,” Laurent said, placing his hand on his chest and pushing him away. “ Let’s not forget, I’m not the one that’s on show here.” He closed the door with a distinct snap and turned his back on his father.

Leaving his father behind, he walked to the front door where Auguste was shuffling his way in, arms loaded with multiple bags. Behind him was his fiancé, Elaine, and standing next to her, with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face was a young boy. Nicaise, he figured.

“Auguste,” Laurent said, the smile on his face uncontrollable.

“Laurent!” Auguste said, dropping the bags and striding towards him. In seconds Auguste had enveloped him in a tight hug. He laughed into Laurent’s ear, bringing his as close as he could.

It had been two years since they had last seen each other. When Laurent graduated high school, Auguste’s gift to him had been a return flight trip down south to stay with him for a week. Even then it had been years since he had seen Auguste and it was also the first and only time he had met Elaine. They hadn’t been engaged at the time, but even then Laurent knew that there would be no one else for Auguste.

Pulling away, Auguste held him at arms length and looked him up and down. “Laurent, you’ve uh… you’ve really filled out.”

Laurent laughed and stepped back, Auguste’s hand dropping from his shoulder. The last time Auguste had seen him, he had been a skinny eighteen year old. Now thanks to the work of the boxing classes, his shoulders were broader and he had obvious muscle definition. He was so far away from the skinny teenager that he use to be.

“I’m still growing,” Laurent said, wrapping his arm around Auguste’s shoulder and turning him back towards the doorway. “I might still end up taller than you.”

“Not likely, little Lu,” Auguste said.

Having reached the entry hall again, Laurent dropped his arm from Auguste’s shoulder and stepped forward to greet Elaine.

“Lovely, to see you again,” he said, kissing her politely on the cheek. They had met only once, but he had talked to her more than a few times on his face time and Skype calls to Auguste. She was an impressive woman, almost as tall as Auguste was a mane of curly thick auburn hair that fell to her waist. She was toned and athletic and Laurent knew it was from years of swimming and mountain biking.

He remembered with delight, the time Auguste called him, moaning in pain, complaining about the gruelling bike ride Elaine had led him through in a national park not far from where they lived. On top of all her athletic prowess, she worked in internet security, which was how Auguste and her had met. If that wasn’t enough, she worked as a personal trainer three days a week in the mornings before her office job.

“You too,” she said with a smile. Stepping back, she wrapped an arm around the young teen next to her, pulling him forward. “And this is my baby brother, Nicaise.”

Nicaise seemed to have little interest in meeting anyone and looked up at Laurent without an inch of forced disinterest.

“Hello,” Laurent said casually. Laurent had made a promise to himself years earlier, that he would always remember what it was like to be a teenager. While he was only twenty, and his teen years were not so far gone, being fourteen was a lot different from being nineteen. So he didn’t feel offended at all when Nicaise merely sniffed at him and looked away.

“He’s going through ‘ _that_ ’ phase,” Elaine said, pulled him to her side and ruffling his hair over affectionately.

“Fuck off,” he said, pushing her away.

She merely smiled and shrugged, letting him go and entering the house, leaving the two of them alone.

“Want me to show you to your room?” Laurent said, glancing down at the stubborn Nicaise.

“Someone should,” he said, stepping into the house and picking up two bags from the pile Auguste had dropped. “The rest of these idiots are all caught up.”

Laurent wanted to protest against him called Auguste an idiot, but figured it would get him no where. Also the rest of them were all busy talking. Laurent caught sight of his Uncle kissing the back of Elaines hand. It made him want to vomit until he saw how obviously unimpressed Elaine looked at the positively arcane gesture.

A part of him wanted to remain, to keep an eye on his father and of course his uncle. It was only a second, but he caught it when his uncles eyes quickly roamed to Nicaise. It was obvious from the first moment he saw Nicaise that his uncle would look twice.

He was fourteen, but looked younger. He was yet to hit his growth spurt and he still held baby fat in his cheeks. He took after his sister in that he had a mound of bouncing curls, but his hair was a chocolate brown and didn't fall passed his ears. He had piercing blue eyes that reminded Laurent of himself more than anything else. It was oh so obvious that his uncle would be interested.

As much as he wanted to stay and see what was being said, it was more important to get Nicaise away.

“Take this,” Nicaise said, thrusting one of his bags, the larger one, against Laurent’s chest. He made his way into the house, assuming to know where he was going.

Auguste gave him an apologetic look as their father spoke to him. Laurent merely hefted the bag and followed Nicaise further into the house. It didn’t take long for the kid to slow down, the house was large after all, and all the doors looked the same when closed, none of them gave any hint of what lay beyond.

“There is a bathroom here,” Laurent said, opening a door to his left revealing a pristine bathroom. He walked further into the depths of the house before opening another door. “And there is a toilet in here.”

“Fascinating,” Nicaise scoffed. He was trying his hardest, but it was clear that he was actually impressed by the size of the house.

“I’m only telling you because your room is right here.”

He stepped across the hall and opened up the door to one of their spare bedrooms, the one he had fixed the bolt to the back of. Niciase was quick to walk in and throw himself on the double bed he found there.

Just as quickly he started to unpack items from the backpack he had kept with him. He pulled out a laptop, an iPod and a number of books. Laurent walked in closing the door behind him and dropped the other bag to the floor. Unable to help himself, Laurent picked up the books Nicaise had scattered on the bed.

“Sure,” Nicaise said sarcastically, “Help yourself.”

“I’ve read all of these,” Laurent said, sorting through the books, remembering each of them.

“That one I have to read for school,” Nicaise said, pointing to a copy of _‘Brave New World’_.

“It’s summer holidays, aren’t you a little late?”

“Not when you’re in advanced classes.”

Nicaise said it like it was a chore, but Laurent could hear the underlying pride in his words.

Laurent shuffled through the books, tossing the books on the bed when he was done. As he did, Nicaise pulled another book from his bag and threw it onto the pile. Laurent almost laughed as he saw what the novel was. It was ‘ _Europe’s Path_ ’, the very book that had been the beginning of Laurent and Damen’s relationship.

“Have you started this yet?” he said, picking it up and showing Nicaise the cover.

“No, one of my teachers gave it to me. Reckons I’ll like it,” Nicaise said as he began to unravel his headphones.

“You wont be disappointed, the ending is amazing.”

“Are you done yet?” NIcaise sighed.

“One more thing,” Laurent said stepping back towards the door. “Just so you know, there is a bolt on the door.”

“Why the fuck would I need to bolt the door?” Nicaise said. Laurent was beginning to pick up on his personality. He was fond of putting up a front, like he didn’t care, or couldn’t be bothered. But even as he asked, Laurent could see a moment of concern in his eyes.

“I know what it’s like, to be young and in a strange place. I just thought that you would like to know it was there. Also, I’m sure you’re more than eager to shut the rest of us out.”

Nicaise rolled his eyes and shuffled off the bed, walking towards him. “Let’s see if it works,” he said, pushing Laurent out the doorway. He slammed the door shut and Laurent smirked in satisfaction when he heard the lock rattle into place.

Figuring that Nicaise would be in there for the rest of the day, Laurent steeled himself and headed back through the house. The congregation had moved from the door way and Laurent followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. All four of them were standing around holding a mug in their hands.

Laurent watched from the doorway, taking them all in. Auguste and his father were in deep conversation. His uncle stood off to the side, watching the exchange, he was the first to notice Laurent but said nothing. Elaine stood next to Auguste, staring into her mug and glancing around every now and then.

Elaine noticed him then, smiling slightly and moving forward to stand next to him. She pushed the mug into his hands, and then leaned back against the wall.

“I’ve had too much caffeine already,” she said. “I haven’t drank any of it ye so go ahead.”

Taking a sip, Laurent noticed it was brewed using the coffee he had bought for himself. He didn’t know if his father had done it deliberately or if he had simply brewed coffee. He was quick to overthink, wondering if his father had done it on purpose.

It was a small thing, nothing really, but Laurent found himself wondering if this was what the next few days were going to be like. He wondered if he was going to be second guessing and wondering the whole time. Then there was his uncle to think about.

He doubted he would be getting any sleep while his uncle was in the house. But with Niciase in the house, and knowing the way his mind worked, he knew getting a full nights sleep would be difficult, if not impossible.

He stood next to Elaine, watching the conversation play out between his father and Auguste. At some point their uncle joined in, playing his part. Laurent didn’t miss the glances he shot him from time to time, and apparently neither did Elaine.

“Is it just me, but if looks could kill, your uncle would have murdered you by now.”

“It’s not you,” Laurent said, “He would kill me if he could, father too. But keep it down, father is terrified of scaring you away. This week we’re all one big happy family.”

“Nothing could scare me away from Auguste, not even his naivety. Or his creepy uncle,” Elaine said.

“You see it then?”

“I don’t know what I see, but he makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“Maybe you should go check on, Nicaise,” Laurent said. When she raised her eyebrows in question he followed up with, “Any excuse to leave right?”

She gave him sly smirk before announcing to the others that she was going to check on Nicaise. Shortly after her departure, uncle said he was going out for a cigarette and his father followed, no doubt they were going to talk about him.

“Finally alone,” Auguste said. “Let’s head up to your room.”

Laurent nodded and led the way, walking passed Elaine on the way who was trying to convince Nicaise to open the door. Laurent almost felt he should apologise, but at the same time he was glad that Nicaise was using the lock on the door, even if it was against his own sister.

Finally reaching his room, Laurent held the door open for Auguste who happily threw himself down on the bed the moment he entered. Closing the door behind him, Laurent resisted the urge to slide the bolt into place, knowing he wouldn’t need it with Auguste in the room.

“Lay here,” Auguste said, patting the space beside him.

“I’m not ten anymore,” Laurent said, laying down beside him.

“You’re always ten to me,” Auguste said with a laugh. “Although, I have to say, you really have filled out. What have you been doing?”

“I started taking boxing classes.”

“What brought that on?”

Laurent hesitated before answering, wonder what was the best response to give. “Lot’s of different things,” he said at last.

“There’s so much you haven’t told me.”

“It’s not intentional.”

“I know, you’re secretive, and if it’s not to protect yourself it’s to protect me. But mostly it’s to protect yourself.”

Laurent didn’t respond and instead rolled onto his side and fought the urge to text Damen.

“There is something else that you’re keeping to yourself though.”

“Hmm?” Laurent asked, readying himself for whatever questions were to come.

“You never told me what happened with your mystery suitor. You know, the one you rang me in a panic about.”

“I was not in a panic,” Laurent huffed, kicked his leg back until it connected against something.

“ _Someone likes me and I don’t know what to do about it!_ ” Auguste said in a false voice.

“I did not say that!”

“It was something very like that!”

Even though he could not see him, Laurent could hear his grin. It wasn’t that Laurent hadn’t wanted to tell his brother about it, it more more that he never knew where things sat with Damen. And then once he did know, they were so caught up with each other that Laurent hadn’t thought to tell Auguste.

It was a small shock to realise the he had left Auguste out of a major part of his life when in the past he had told him everything. But between being with Damen, his classes, the boxing and the revelations he had shared with Damen, it was hard to keep Auguste filled in.

“His name is Damianos, Damen,” Laurent whispered softly.

Auguste positively squealed and rolled over to wrap his arms around Laurent, shaking him back and forth.   
  
“This doesn’t mean anything!” Laurent said, protesting against his brother’s hold and trying to free himself.

“I’m so happy for you!”

“Stop it!” Laurent said, further trying to extract himself from his brother’s tight hold.

Auguste did stop shaking him, but still held him close. “But seriously Laurent, I’m so happy for you. I know losing Mum was hard, but you closed yourself off for so many years. I know you never told me but it’s obvious this Damen has made a difference in you. When we talk you’ve got more feeling, you talk more and not to mention how much healthier you are. How did you meet him?”

“Well,” Laurent said, smiling to himself, thinking back over the past few months. “You know those boxing classes I’ve been taking?”

Auguste hummed in response.

“He’s the instructor, but… he’d been crushing on me for ages.” Laurent couldn’t help but to add that Damen had like him first. But then once he started, he could’t help but to keep going, telling Auguste all about how Damen had lent him books, taken him out and shown him what it was like to have friends.

He talked about Vannes and the cafe and the morning runs. He told him about Damen surprising him with muffins and taking him to book stores and art galleries. He told him about staying the night at Damen’s house and how that first night Damen had squashed himself onto the couch, letting him have the bed.

He talked and talked about Damen and what they had been doing together. He described in detail how he felt when Damen would cup his face and whisper him back to sleep. How it felt hours later when Damen would wake him with feather light kisses to his face and the smell of coffee. He talked about Damen in every way and in every place.

“Holy shit,” Auguste said in a whisper.

“What?” Laurent said turning his head slightly.

“You’re so in love.”

Laurent turned his head back, resting against the pillow and staring out into his room. A room that not long ago made him feel distant. “Yes,” Laurent said, closing his eyes to better focus on the feeling. “I think I am.”

Auguste started shaking him again in his own excitement. “How long until we tell father about your engagement?”

“Never,” Laurent said coldly, shoving him off and sitting up on the bed.

“Why not?”

“I’m not the type to marry, not to mention same sex marriage still isn’t legal in this country. Also I doubt father would care. In fact, he seems horrified that his son, the one he didn’t want, likes men.”

He heard Auguste sit up behind him and Laurent couldn’t help it that he shrugged off the hand Auguste placed on his shoulder.

“I know you and father have your differences but I’m sure he’d be happy for you.”

Laurent was reminded in that moment that Auguste had never had to deal with the same father that he had. It was easy enough to forget considering how different Auguste and his father were. Auguste was such an honest and trusting person that he somehow could not see that their father despised him. Auguste was everything their father could ever want. Laurent was the left overs.

“I can’t believe you still don’t see it,” Laurent said. He stood up, rubbing at his eyes, wondering how he would ever get it through to Auguste. But then again, their father had never been anything but loving towards Auguste. “I know you think it’s some long blown childish belief of mine, but father hates me.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Auguste said. He stood from the bed and placed a hand on Laurent’s shoulder. “I’m sure that in time you two will work things out.”

Turning sharply, Laurent smacked Auguste’s hand from his shoulder. “That man doesn’t give a shit about me, Auguste! The only reason he hasn’t thrown me onto the street is because you would have a problem with it! Don’t you see it! He hates me!”

He hadn’t realised that he was raising his voice, but in that moment all he wanted was for Auguste to see what had always been there. The problem was, was that Auguste was just too good of a person. He simply could not see that the father he loved hated his younger brother.

Auguste looked so utterly torn and confused and all Laurent wanted to do was shake him and force him to see.

Before either of them could speak there was a knock at the door. Standing in the doorway was uncle with an absolutely delighted look on his face. Laurent regretted not locking the door and thinking for a moment he had a second of safety and privacy.

“Dinner is ready my nephews,” he said, standing back to allow them to exit.

Auguste looked between them, his face conveying his confusion and worry. He turned towards Laurent and said softly, “We’ll talk later, I promise I’ll listen.” And then he was gone, out the door.

Laurent waited for his uncle to leave, and when he didn’t he made his way out. With his back to his uncle he shuddered violently when he felt his uncle trail a hand down his back. He stopped in the middle of the hallway to stop himself from being sick, when he did his uncle came so close that when he spoke quietly into Laurent’s ear he could feel the brush of his lips.

“Not as in control as you thought,” he said simple. He brushed passed him and made his way to the dining room. “Hurry, or the food will get cold.”

Food was the furthest thing from Laurent’s mind, but still, he pushed himself forward and told himself that it was only a few days. His hand drifted to his back pocket and to his phone.

Pulling the phone out he sent Damen a quick message before putting the phone back in his pocket and moving forward.

_‘I love you.’_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEHOLD! I return. 
> 
> I'm so sorry for the delay. I'm also sorry for those I left behind in the last few months, you know who you are and I am sorry.
> 
> On to other things, this is bad???? I just wanted to get a chapter out so much, that perhaps I didn't put as much effort into the chapter as I should have. 
> 
> Also, massive trigger warnings in this chapter, Laurent confronts his abuser and it's mostly disastrous. The uncle is seriously creepy in this chapter, like seriously creepy. I felt dirty writing this.
> 
> Hopefully I can keep this up! It's been a year since I started and I hope I can finish this.

Laurent’s phone was buzzing constantly in his pocket. Nicaise was sitting at the table with his earphones in at full blast, pushing peas around his plate. Next to him Elaine was trying and mostly failing to contain her anger at Nicaise’s behaviour. At the head of the table, his father was trying his best not to look constipated. Auguste sat to his right, trying to carry on a conversation with nobody in particular. Laurent was sitting next to him, his food untouched as he was spending every ounce of his energy trying not to scream as uncle kept running his foot up the length of Laurent’s leg. 

 

He knew his uncle had no interest in him anymore, no desire to force himself on him. He knew that his uncle was trying to intimidate him and throw him off, and the worst thing was it was working. Laurent was having trouble as controlled as he was. His mind didn’t know if it should shut down completely, rage out or violently eject everything from his stomach. Across the table, Nicasie was mashing his peas into the plate, sighing loudly. It was a small mercy that Nicaise wasn’t seated next to his uncle. 

 

“So, Laurent,” Auguste said, turning towards him since he was obviously getting nothing out of their father. “How were your final exams?”

 

“Terrible,” Laurent said, shift slightly closer to Auguste so that his uncles leg dropped away. “In fact I’ve decided to drop Business and move on to something else.”

 

Everyone was drawn out of their own world when his father threw his cutlery down onto his plate. The sound loud enough that it even pierced through the sound of Nicaise’s music as he pulled an ear bud out.

 

“Again?!” he hissed.

 

Laurent mimicked Nicaise and pushed his food around his plate, not really caring about his father’s anger.

 

“It didn’t feel right.”

 

“First law, now business, you’re running out of serious options!”

 

“Oh? But I do have an option. I plan to study education, become a kindergarten teacher so I can play with finger paints all day.”

 

Laurent swore he heard the moment his father’s mind snapped. He also saw the way he reeled himself and looked around him. Auguste looked mortified, Elaine was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Nicaise looked on with a small smirk, twirling the cord of his ear phones between two fingers. 

 

“I’m just, concerned about your future,” he said through grit teeth.

 

“He’s just trying to find himself, Dad,” Auguste said.

 

Whilst Laurent appreciated Auguste’s support, he didn’t like the way Auguste had put it, like he was a indecisive child. His uncle chose that moment to stroke his leg again and he couldn’t contain the jolt that time, making him look even worse.

 

His father deserved an oscar for the way he controlled himself and put on a face of concern. 

 

“I just don’t want you to spend your life in constant indecision.”

 

And in that moment, Laurent made his decision.

 

“I’m going back to finish my law degree. So much corruption in the world today,” said Laurent looking his father straight in the eye, “CEO’s covering for criminals,” he turned his gaze to his uncle, “Pedophiles running around never facing justice. And then there are all these people fruading people out of money online. In fact this year alone, up-front payment schemes have cost the general public more than three and a half million dollars.”

 

Laurent speared a garlic soaked potato and shoved it into his mouth. Chewing politely as he starred his father straight in the eye.

 

“Uh, maybe you could finish your degree down south like I did?” Auguste said, trying to carry on a conversation. 

 

“Wonderful idea, but I wouldn’t want to leave behind my boyfriend, he’s so supportive and all.”

 

“Boyfriend?” Elaine said.

 

“Boyfriend?” his father squeezed out, feigning no knowledge.

 

The dinner wasn’t going that bad after all.

 

“Yes you met him, remember? What did you call him again?” Laurent took a moment to eat another piece of potato and look thoughtful. “That’s right, you called him ‘that wog’.”

 

The silence that fell on the table held more satisfaction than Laurent thought possible. Elaine and Nicaise were now staring at his father with twin scowls, Auguste was looking between the two of them like a bomb was about to go off. His uncle had stopped being a creep for a moment to focus his attention on what was about to happen. 

 

“Did you know?” Elaine said, pushing back from the table, “That our grandfather was Greek on our father’s side? And on our mother’s side, our Grandfather is Italian.”

 

His father’s mouth opened and closed like a gaping, suffocating fish. There was no way for him to recover and in seconds Elaine had left the table. Nicaise followed after her shortly, not before loading his plate with food and taking it with him. Auguste was next to leave in a rush, chasing after Elaine. 

 

After three separate door slams his father stood up, slamming his hands down on the table.

 

“I hope you are proud of yourself!” his father said.

 

“Exceedingly.”

 

With one final huff his father stormed off, heading in the opposite direction of the others and slamming his way through the front door. Being left with his uncle, Laurent pushed himself away from the table and turned to his uncle.

 

“Touch me again, and I don’t care who’s watching, I’ll stab a fork right through your testicles.”

 

His uncle held up his hands as if in defeat but didn’t say a word, a smirk present on his face. Laurent left the table and made his way back to his room. Along the way he passed by Auguste’s room and heard a hushed angry conversation. He detoured passed Nicaise’s room and heard the tinny sound of too loud earphones. He resisted the urge to check to see if he had implemented the use of the sliding lock and turned around back to his own room.

 

Once back in his own room with the lock in place, Laurent fell onto his bed and pulled out his phone. Damen’s loving and supporting texts awaiting him.

 

…

  
  


The night was still and dark went Laurent jolted awake. He was still fully dressed and the room was faintly illuminated by a bedside lamp. He stared at it with heavy eyes, distanly thinking about how he had thrown his bedside lamp at his father months earlier. He had no idea where the lamp had come from or when it had been replaced. 

 

His head was pounding lightly and the light was burning into his eyes. He was grappling for the light switch when he heard the groan of moving floor boards and the light sound of foot steps. In his sleep muddled state he distantly thought that his father must have been home. Yet as the footsteps moved further down the hall and passed his room Laurent remembered. His uncle was home and there was a thirteen year old boy in the house. 

 

He was up and out of his bed so fast he almost ran directly into the door. Fumbling with the lock, Laurent pulled the door open as quickly as he could and ran out into the hallway. As he suspected, his uncle was making his way through the house in his bed clothes.

 

“Calm down,” uncle said in a whispered voice. “You’ll wake the whole house.”

 

“What are you doing?” Laurent said, his voice croaking with sleep.

 

“Relieving my bladder, unless you have a problem with that?” He walked as he talked and entered into the toilet, relieving himself as he said. Laurent stayed positioned by his door, waiting for his uncle, making sure he went back to his room.

 

The flushing of the toilet seemed unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. As did the sound of the door opening and his uncle's footsteps making their way back up the hall. 

 

“Something to say, Laurent?”

 

“Do you ever think about what you did to me?” said Laurent, his sleep muddled mind blurting out the only thing on his mind.

 

“What I did to you?” uncle said, stroking a hand through his beard as if in deep thought. “What exactly did I do to you?”

 

“I can’t believe you’re trying to talk your way out of this.”

 

“There is nothing to talk my way out of. All I did was comfort someone who was mourning the loss of their mother, and their absent brother. I helped you deal with your distant and unappreciative father. He still doesn’t see how amazing you are.”

 

“You raped me,” Laurent said over the lump in his throat. 

 

“Such a negative word,” his uncle said, walking closer, forcing Laurent to backup and press against the wall, “You were always such an intelligent and mature person, no matter your age. You can’t blame me for helping you, you wanted me to stay after all. Remember when Aleron suggested that you were old enough to look after yourself. You were fourteen and perfectly capable of looking after yourself, you were such a smart bot, but you begged me to stay.”

 

Laurent felt like he was on the verge of choking, his eyes stinging. 

 

“That never happened,” Laurent said, the words sticking in his throat.

 

“We had something special,” his uncle said, stroking his hand down Laurent’s cheek in a soft caress. “We could have it again.”

 

The part of Laurent’s mind that knew what his uncle was doing, that he was trying to unnerve and control him, was pushed to the back. The hand on his cheek burned and he felt the need to sob as that filthy hand continued down his neck and across his chest. He didn’t remember asking his uncle to stay. But he remembered the loneliness, he remembered the need for contact, and he remembered thinking that he was special.

 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he said, his words stronger than his voice.

 

“You were always so smart, so mature, it’s a shame you’ve become so incolent.”

 

They were the same words that his uncle had muttered years earlier. His uncle whispered in his ear that he was special that he was mature, he wasn’t like everyone else his age. If ever Laurent didn’t comply completely, his uncle would withdraw, say he was disappointed. And Laurent hated himself, but he remembered that he would do as he was told, just so he wasn’t alone. Laurent managed to smack his hand away, but he was still pressed to the wall.

 

“Don’t you want what we had? Oh, I forgot, you’ve got a boyfriend now,” his uncle said, stepping back slightly yet still too close. “Have you bent over for him yet? Have you sucked his cock like I taught you, I’d hate for all those lessons to go to waste.”

 

Stepping away, his uncle gave him one last knowing look before walking away and disappearing back into his own room, leaving Laurent an emotional mess. His breath was choppy and hard to control and all he wanted to do was run away. The best he could do was run back into his room and lock the door behind him. Pressing himself against the door, the first thing on Laurent’s mind was Damen. He didn’t even know what time it was, all he knew was that he needed to talk to Damen. 

 

After a minute of frantic, nonsensical searching, he found his phone exactly where he left it on top of his bed. He distantly noticed that it was quarter past two in the morning, but that didn’t stop him from pulling up Damen’s details and ringing him. 

 

For every second of the answer went unanswered, Laurent felt his panic mount. The dial tone sounded distant and for a second he wondered if Damen even existed. As if he had imagined he was capable of being part of a relationship. Until the connection clicked and Damen’s voice flowed through.

 

“Laurent?” Damen said, his voice slurred with sleep.

 

“I…” 

 

“Are you okay?” Damen said, instantly alert. “Do you need me to come over?”

 

“No, I… I just needed to hear your voice.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The line went mostly silent, but Laurent could hear the sound of shuffling as Damen pulled himself out of bed.

 

“What happened?”

 

“I don’t even know,” Laurent said quickly. “I thought I could face him.”

 

“What did he do?” Damen growled.

 

Laurent thought about the feel of his uncles lips brushing his ear, the way his foot brushed up and down his leg during dinner. The familiar feel of his uncle’s hand stroking his cheek, sliding down his throat. 

 

“I just… I just needed to hear your voice. It’s hard to see him.”

 

“Tell me what he did,” Damen said, pushing through Laurent’s excuses.

 

Laurent didn’t know how to explain it all. Damen knew his story, he knew that his uncle had interfered with him. He didn’t know that his uncle was right, that he was desperate for his uncles attention. He didn’t remember beggin his uncle to stay when he was fourteen, but the more he thought about it the more likely he thought that it had occured.

 

“It’s just hard to see him again,” Laurent said instead. “I can’t sleep.”

 

It was a half lie. While he had fallen asleep earlier, he knew he would not be able to go back to sleep any time soon. 

 

“I’ll stay up with you.”

 

Laurent felt a rush of joy, and then squashed it back down when he heard the squeak of floorboards. Forgetting about Damen for a second he rushed back to his door, pulling it open to see his uncle making his way down the hall, towards Nicaise’s room.

 

“So soon?” Laurent said, “I’d check for prostate cancer if you have to relieve yourself again already.”

 

“I’m just getting a glass of water,” his uncle said.

 

Laurent waited with Damen still on the phone, waiting for his uncle to return with his glass of water and return to his room. Once the door shut behind his uncle, Laurent returned his attention to Damen.

 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said. “I’ll be okay, go back to sleep.”

 

He hung up before Damen could answer. Shoving his phone into his pocket, Laurent left his door open and instead dragged his desk chair over to the doorway. He turned the light of his room on and then set out to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee, listening out for the slightest movement from the rooms beyond.

 

After making himself an entire pot of coffee, Laurent settled in to watch the hallway and make sure his uncle was kept in place.

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and pulling it out, he of course saw a message from Damen.

 

_ I’m still gonna text you!!!!!!! _

 

Laurent couldn't help but smile and sip at his coffee as he prepared for a long night of texting, coffee and bad app games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god...should I have posted this mess?


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was either reply to comments or write new chapter, I went with new chapter.  
> But don't think I don't love each and every one of you. Those who have stuck with this, and those who are new.  
> There are still some people I need to talk to, I'm working on it!  
> Please, I hope this chapter is alright. I think I may be rushing it, I just want to get this done after so long away. And I'm working on another fic, one I hope is much further along before I start posting, and another one shot so stay tuned.  
> Love you all.

The house was filtered in the grey tones of morning and there was movement in the bedrooms before Laurent gave up on his doorway vigil. He hurt down to his very bones and standing up right caused his muscles to shudder. It was not for naught though as he saw the door to the room his uncle was staying in creak open a sliver twice throughout the night. Although he couldn’t see into the room, he knew that his uncle was peaking out, checking to see if the coast was clear. The door would close just as silently when Laurent stared directly down the hall. 

Leaving the empty coffee pot and mug by the door, Laurent pulled his chair back into the room and took a moment to plug his phone in to charge. He had stopped texting Damen around two hours earlier, feigning sleep so that Damen could at least get some sleep in before his morning classes. After thirty minutes Damen had sent ‘good night’ along with the kissy face emoji. He squashed down the guilt he felt about waking Damen up, while he picked up the coffee pot and mug, heading back to the kitchen to make more. 

His brain was fuzzy and he was sure his heart would probably leap out of his chest if he drank more coffee. Yet, he put the water on to boil anyway, washing out the plunger pot briefly before scooping more coffee grounds into it. He was too overtly aware of the way the water was seeping into the grounds to notice anyone enter the kitchen until they spoke.

“Coffee!” Auguste said, shuffling his way into the kitchen.

Laurent jumped slightly, almost knocking the pot off the counter in the process.

“Fuck, Auguste,” he said in a grumble, turning away from the counter. “No loud noises until the coffee is made.”

“Fair enough, little bro,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

As high strung as he was Laurent jumped at the sudden contact and easily shifted away.

“No touching either,” he said, lifting the kettle and pouring in the boiling water. He fitted the lid and watched the water swirl for a second before turning to face Auguste. 

“Jesus,” Auguste said, catching sight of his face.

Laurent was well aware of what he probably looked like. With his skin as pale and sensitive as it was, his sleepless night would show on his face. It would be blotching and his eyes would have dark bruise like semi-circles under them.

“Did you sleep at all?” Auguste said, pulling a couple of mugs out of the cupboard.

“Some,” Laurent said, slowly pressing down the plunger. 

“What were you doing?”

“Reading,” he said, pulling the mugs towards him and pouring in the liquid. It was a good enough excuse as any and plenty believable.

“Don’t ever change,” Auguste said with a smile, grabbing one of the mugs.

They sat down together at the kitchen table and took a moment to blow on the steaming mugs. 

“I was thinking,” Auguste said, pushing his mug around on the table. “That we could go out for breakfast together, and talk about what you were saying last night.” He took a moment to take a tentative sip before continuing. “And about what happened at dinner last night.”

Laurent let his finger run around the smooth edge of the coffee mug and felt the urge to shove his fingers into the steaming liquid. To stop himself he lifted the mug to his mouth, uselessly blowing on the liquid before taking a small sip.

“What about Elaine, and NIcaise?”

Auguste let out a soft laugh and sat back in his chair, relaxing more with a grin on his face.

“She’s in the process of dragging him out of bed. She wants to take him out for breakfast, show him around the city. A bit of one on one sibling time. Thought we might do the same.”

Being so tired, Laurent observed the easy way Auguste sat and talked, the obvious love he had for Elaine when she was mentioned. The admiration he had for her, and like the last few months had never happened, Laurent felt a flare of pure want. He wanted to be like Auguste and be capable of everything he was. He wanted to look like him, act like him, feel like him. He wasn’t jealous, but it almost hurt how much he wished he was Auguste.

“I know a place, we’ll go after Elaine and Nicaise are on their way.”

He knew he was probably being too precautionary, but there was no way his uncle would be in the house for a second without him there to make sure.

…

He had never actually been to the cafe in the morning, and he had certainly never eaten breakfast there. The cafe had always been his afternoon reprieve, to study and to read. He didn’t even know if the food would be any good. Yet it was the only place he could think to go, and of course there was the coffee. Good coffee was what he needed more than anything else at that moment, besides nerves he wasn’t sure he had. Vannes wasn’t behind the machine and despite the lack of a familiar face, Laurent felt safe there.

Auguste ordered an eggs benedict on a sweet potato hash, whilst Laurent ordered avocado on toast with feta and a balsamic glaze drizzle. He was hungry but his stomach was still tying itself in knots while he thought about the conversation to come. They had just settled on the bar overlooking the creek when something happened that made him feel all the more better. A group of sweaty people streamed passed the cafe, huffing in the early morning heat.

“Here he comes,” Laurent said, taking a sip of his well made coffee, even if Vannes wasn’t on the coffee machine.

“Who?” Auguste said, stirring far too many sugars into his own long black.

“Damen.”

Just as he spoke, Damen came jogging into view, following the stragglers at the back. 

“Where? Which one?” August said, almost jumping from his seat.

“The big one at the back.”

Just at that moment, Damen turned his head as if on instinct, and now Laurent knew what he was doing. He knew that for months, Damen had glanced up at the cafe, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, sitting at the bar, studying, reading or just looking out at the ebbing tide of the creek across the road. Their eyes met and Damen’s jog slowed, his eyes quickly drifting over to Auguste. Laurent shook his head minutely and Damen got the hint. He jogged on, smiling brightly before winking and turning his attention back to his class.

“Fuck, Laurent,” Auguste said, “I don’t know if I’m more jealous of you or his biceps or both.”

“Both is good,” Laurent said, maintaining his focus on Damen until he disappeared around the corner.

“Well done, little bro,” Auguste said, clapping him on the shoulder yet again. 

Laurent took a moment to revel in the moment before shaking the feeling and the image of Damen’s wink out of his mind.

“You wanted to talk… about father?” Laurent said.

“Yeah,” Auguste said, his voice an octave lower than the jubilant way he had been moments earlier. “I’m sorry, I was defensive about him. I guess last night kind of proved your point a bit. But Laurent I don’t think he hates you.”

Laurent had a number of things to argue back, things he wanted to yell. But yelling and getting emotional wouldn't prove his point, so he took a moment to collect himself, and start off with something he knew Auguste would accept. 

“The first time, he saw Damen, I introduced him as a friend, just a friend, because I was too terrified of what he would say, if he knew. Even without knowing, Dad said he didn’t want him in the house again, just because of his heritage. When I was fifteen, he left me to fend for  myself, saything there was no real reason to keep staff in the house anymore. I didn’t know how to cook, or shop or plan or anything else. He just left me stranded, at fifteen.”

“I thought… uncle was there?”

Laurent took a deep breath before continuing.

“That’s another story, one I’ll go into another day. When I told him I was dropping out of criminal law, he called me weak, and a waste of resources, he constantly shoved it in my face that I wasn’t like you.”

Auguste made to speak up, but Laurent kept talking, cutting him off. 

“When Mum got sick, he told me to stop bothering her, that it was my fault she was tired all the time. When she died, he told me that was my fault too, because she shouldn’t have had another child at her age. When you went away, he said that was my fault as well, that you couldn’t face the cause of mother’s death. When…”

“Stop,” Auguste said, his face pale. “He...he really said all these things to you?”

“I told you,” Laurent said through clenched teeth, “He hates me.”

It was at that precise moment that their meals arrived, and Auguste took it as an opportunity not to say anything. They both sat in silence for a moment, looking out across the way, unable to look at each other. Auguste dug into his food like he was starved, but Laurent knew that he was using it as a distracting. While the food in front of him looked good, and he was hungry, Laurent was finding it hard to eat. 

He was too busy thinking about another conversation he would have to have with Auguste. One that would be impossible to eat after. His mind was quick to remind him of his uncle’s hand trailing down his chest last night. His foot brushing up and down his leg, the feel of bristled lips brushing against his ear. 

Laurent stabbed the toast on his plate so hard the fork hit the plate with a loud chink. He sawed into it with equal vigour, the knife scraping harshly. Distracted by his anger and his thoughts, Laurent shoved a piece of food into his mouth that was much too large. But he chewed it down, and tried not to think about his uncle, and what he was doing at that very moment.

…

Breakfast was a disaster. Laurent barely ate any of his food and when they got up to leave they still hadn’t spoken. He had to wonder how Auguste would react if Laurent was to ever tell him about what uncle did. Auguste looked like he was about to speak a number of times, but the words never came out, and they walked home in silence.

Laurent was bone tired by the time the reached the house which was mercifully silence and empty. All he wanted to do was collapse onto the nearest surface and forget about everything. He had already entered the lounge room and sat on the couch, planning to make himself comfortable when Auguste finally spoke up.

“A part of me still wants to ask if you want me to talk to him,” Laurent scoffed at this. “But… you’ve got me thinking, and it hurts, Laurent. It hurts because I’m thinking back and I’m seeing it now.” Auguste sat down next to him, looking for a moment that he was just as tired as Laurent was. “I’m thinking about these moments, where he was just so focused on me, so proud of me, and I can’t think of a single moment when he looked at you like that. I believe you, I do, but, it’s going to take me a while to wrap my head around everything.”

Laurent didn’t say anything and instead lay down on the expensive couch, cushioning his head on the armrest. 

“Are you okay?” Auguste said.

“I’m so tired,” Laurent said, his voice muffled and slurred.

Auguste stood up from the couch and walked away. Figuring the conversation was over, Laurent settled in, curling up into the couch, hoping that he could get a few moments of rest in before Elaine and Nicasie returned from their day out. He was drifting slowly, not quite asleep or awake when Auguste returned. Blinking up through heavy eyes, before he could focus a large soft pillow was thrown into his face.

“Get some sleep, little bro,” Auguste said, walking away.

Huffing slightly, Laurent bunched the pillow under his head, and let himself slip away.

…

There was a hand clamped over his mouth, and fingers digging into the soft flesh of his jaw. His eyes snapped open and his vision was filled with the face of his uncle, so close to him that their noses almost touched. One of his uncle’s hands was pushing down on his mouth, the other stroking down his neck.

“Sweet boy,” he whispered in his ear. “Don’t you miss us? We could have it all again, you and me.”

His uncle’s hand stroked his neck, back and forth, and then curled around his throat and clamped down, hard. Jolting through the sudden lack of air, Laurent tried desperately to push his uncle’s hands away, only to find that his hands were limp, weak and useless. His uncle’s face was so close, their noses were touching, their cheeks pressed together. He could smell his nicotine stained breath. He couldn’t breath but he could smell him. He could smell.

…

When his breath came back to him, he was sitting upright on the couch, gasping for breath. In a panic he stood hastily, his knees slamming into the wooden coffee table next to the couch. Bracing himself, he managed to stop himself from falling over, but still couldn’t contain his panic as his eyes darted around the room in search of his uncle. When he assured himself the room was empty, he realised it was a dream and that the burn in his throat was nothing but a figment of his tried, stressed out mind.

His heart was still racing when the front door slammed open causing him to jump.

“This place is so boring! I can’t believe I had to come here!” Nicaise said, stomping his way into the house. 

From his place Laurent watched Nicaise barrel through the house, stomp up the hallway and slam the door to his room. It did ease his troubled mind slightly to hear the lock rattle into place behind him. Elaine came into view moments later and quickly caught sight of Laurent, still shaken.

“You okay?” she said, stepping into the room.

“Yeah,” Laurent said, swallowing his panic. “I was just taking a nap.”

“Sorry about him,” Elaine said, walking further into the room and flopping down onto the couch. “You’d think by the way he was acting I was forcing him to move here. Just like some cheesy movie or something.”

Laurent let himself laugh at that, and sat down next to Elaine, moving his pillow from earlier onto his lap.

“He’s just cranky he didn’t get to stay home. He thinks he’s old enough to look after himself, but we all know what he’d get up to.”

“I take it he wasn’t impressed with the sights?” Laurent said, trying not to think about how incapable Laurent was at taking care of himself at Nicaise’s age. 

“We didn’t get far, I took him into the city and we only got as far as breakfast before he made a point of not wanting to be there. I had to bring him back to avoid any public embarrassment.”

“What does he like?” Laurent said, trying not to smile.

“Gaming, books and terrible music, he won’t admit to the book thing though. He constantly complains about how his teachers are forcing him to read things. In truth he loves it.”

“I know a couple of good book stores in the city,” he said, mainly thinking about the large second hand one Damen took him too. “I’ll give you addresses if you want to try again tomorrow?”

“Maybe you should try. I think half his problem is he doesn’t want to be around his embarrassing older sister. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your nap,” she said standing up, “Where’s Auggie? In the room?”

Laurent shrugged having no idea where Auguste was. She simple shrugged back and made her way through the house. When she was gone, Laurent let himself lay back down on the couch. He was still bone tired, yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. The dream was still fresh in his mind and his throat burned with phantom fingers, digging into his skin. 

It was at that moment that Nicaise decided to start playing his ‘terrible music’, loudly.

“Nicaise!” Elaine said, thumping on his door. “Show some respect, we both know Mum raised you better than this.”

Yes, there was definitely no way Laurent was getting any sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know I promised within the week when I responded to all your lovely comments, and I didn't quiet make it. Yet here it is! It is significantly longer than my last two updates though so that's something!  
> I don't know when I will update next as I have just taken on a double degree, yaaaaay -__-   
> Let me know what you think, constructive criticism is always welcome, and I have received some good stuff from you folks.   
> Thank you all and bear with me!

It was the sound of a cup cluttering to the ground and the feel of cold liquid splashing over his feet that woke him up. With a snort Damen would have found adorable, Laurent came back into the waking world slightly confused and with a crick in his neck. 

After an afternoon of brief and often interrupted naps, Laurent had once again set up vigil in his doorway that night. A pot of coffee and his phone to keep him company. For most of the night, he had played his brainless gaming apps and slowly emptied the pot of coffee. He had refrained from texting Damen for that second night, letting the man have a full nights sleep while he himself yearned for sleep. 

He had received one text at around one am though. A simple text from Damen that said he had woken up and he was there if he needed him. As much as Laurent wanted to reply to the text he had let it be, letting Damen think he was asleep and instead went back to lining up colourful caricatures of vegetables of all things on his app game. He had not seen or heard a whisper of his uncle the entire night which is perhaps why, in the early hours of the morning he had dropped off, his chin touching his chest and the mug of coffee slowly, slowly slipping from his fingers. 

The shock of his wakening and the general discomfort he was in left him confused as to where he was and what he was doing. The house was once again filled with the dull early morning gray of sunrise, and the household was coming to life. Laurent rubbed at his gritty eyes and stretched slightly before standing up.

He put the chair back at his desk and plugged in his phone to charge before moving to the doorway and cleaning up the spilt cold coffee. And then, like the previous day, he picked up the pot and mug and went back to the kitchen to refill them both. This time he was aware of the other people in the house and wasn’t startled by the sound of bare feet slapping their way into the kitchen. He tensed for a moment, wondering if it was his uncle. However it was a young clear voice that reached to him from the doorway.

“Make mine with milk and three sugars,” Nicaise said, followed by the sound of a chair being pulled out.

Without answering or turning around, Laurent made Nicaise his requested coffee and then poured one for himself, black as always. When finished he grabbed the mugs and sat down at the small kitchen table across from Nicaise, pushing a mug towards him.

“You look like shit,” Nicaise said.

“I’m not a morning person,” Laurent said in reply, well aware of how lined his face would be and how deep the rings under his eyes would be by now. 

Nicaise took the offered mug and took a sip. He managed to somehow look relieved and disgusted.

“Elaine seems to think you’ll have a better chance of showing me around this boring city than she did.” 

“What makes it so boring?” Laurent said, carefully sipping his still too hot coffee.

“It’s so small, there’s nothing here. I looked it up before I was dragged here, two million people, it’s barely a city at all. There are more than twice as many people where I’m from.” NIcaise said, for some reason finding pride in that.

“And you can fit the entire population of Australia into the city of Shanghai,” Laurent said with a small smirk, “Each city, every town is different, and has its secrets, you just need to know where to look.”

Nicaise, realiasing that he had been put in his place, leaned back in his chair with a huff, pulling his coffee back with him. 

“It’ll have to wait for another day, today we’re going down the coast to the theme parks. I guess the _only_ good thing about this place is that it’s within driving distance of something interesting.”

Laurent pushed aside the desire to point out that the city had a number of coastal suburbs even if the city itself was not located directly on the ocean. Instead he focused on the fact that neither Auguste or Elaine had brought up a trip down the coast, or theme parks. He mentioned as such.

“Oh they don’t know it yet, but it’s what we’re doing today.” 

With that Nicaise stood and saunted out of the room, taking the coffee with him and slamming the door to his room for good measure. If everyone else wasn’t already awake, they would be now, Laurent thought. However seconds later Auguste walked into the kitchen, fully dressed and looking alert.

“Did you hear that?” Laurent said, while Auguste poured himself a coffee, putting the kettle back on to boil for however else wanted to make coffee.

“Yup. It’s a little last minute, Elaine was hoping to try and take him around the city again.”

“Just take him,” Laurent said, thinking of nothing more than it meant a whole day of Nicaise out of the house and away from uncle, “If you give him what he wants he might calm down for a day. Also, think of how tired he’ll be after a trip to the coast and back.”

Auguste scoffed at that and sat down in the seat Nicaise had vacated. 

“I was actually hoping for a bit of time with you,” and then Auguste went silent and started running his fingers lightly over the edge of his mug, a nervous gesture that Laurent knew he himself was guilty of. “I wanted to talk to you more about Dad, and about uncle.”

Laurent felt the lump rise in his throat at the mention.

“Uncle?” Laurent said, probably not sounding near as casual as he wanted it to.

“You’re uncomfortable around him, I… does he treat you the same, like Dad does?”

“No… no he doesn’t, we’ll talk about that too one day. But for now, I think you’ve got enough to think about. Take the day off from me and take the kid down the coast. I’m sure Elaine wouldn’t mind a trip to the beach.”

Auguste seemed torn for a moment, and then a large smile bloomed over his face.

“You just want us out of the way so you can go visit your beefcake,” he said with a laugh

“That’s not a bad idea,” Laurent said with his own laugh, even though the thought had honestly not entered his head.

They chattered lightly between themselves until Elaine entered, cursing the humidity and gesturing at her curly hair going completely wild. Auguste put the idea towards her and she agreed the moment she heard the words 'coast' and 'beach', then she left the kitchen still cursing. Auguste finished his coffee and followed after her not long after. 

Without anyone else to talk to, the strain and the lack of sleep was once again making itself known in his body. He felt ten years older when he stood up, his knees creaking as he stood, his neck still stiff and sore from the position he had fallen asleep in. Yet he kept himself going as the noise in the house rose. Auguste, Elaine and Nicaise were getting ready, packing what they needed for a day down the coast. He made his way out of the kitchen and as he did he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. 

He caught a glimpse of his uncle sitting on the front steps, the door wide open to the stench of his cigarette. He didn’t turn his head any further, nor acknowledge his uncle at all. Instead he made his way back to his room, and to his phone, where he sent a message to Damen. 

_ ‘Got the day free, wanna meet up and sleep through the day in that giant bed?’ _

Because as much as he wanted to see Damen, all he really wanted to do was sleep, and with Damen beside him, he knew that he would be able too. 

Damen’s response came almost instantly.

_ 'Why don’t you come to the last morning class and work out those neglected muscles and then we can go home together :)’ _

Laurent smiled and sent back a confirmation text. Taking out his aggression, followed by a good sleep in Damen’s arms sounded like the perfect day to him.

The full meaning of the word home, for once slipped by him. 

…

Because he still wasn’t prepared to leave the house while Nicaise was still present, Laurent ended up getting a last minute lift to the boxing studio with Auguste, who had commandeered Aleron’s car for the day. Nicaise, as usual, looked like he didn’t care, his eyes steadily looking out the window and his earbuds crammed in his ears. Yet Laurent managed to catch that for a moment a slick smile make its way to Nicaise’s lips because he forced it down and continued his ‘I’m bored’ look. Auguste followed his directions to the studio, and when they arrived Laurent hurled out a quick thanks before jogging inside, excited to see Damen at last. 

The class had almost started by the time Laurent burst his way through the door. Damen was already at the front and sent him a quick smile before flicking his head over the group of skipping people, telling him to hurry up in that one gesture. He threw down his bag and quickly and efficiently applied his wraps. After a few quick stretches he was out on the floor skipping with the rest of the class. He was only given a minute or two before Damen called from ropes away.

The class started as always with a quick run through of all the punches and the correct technique and footwork behind them. And then they went straight into it. They were jogging on the spot and dropping to the floor for push ups and burpees when instructed. They did squats and rocket jumps, high knees and quick feet. Laurent felt the sweat build at the back of his neck, yet the exercise was helping him feel more alive as the endorphins kicked in.

After fifteen minutes was a quick hot lap where Laurent came in second, only just behind the person leading. Then they were strapping on their gloves and were into the combinations. Laurent was back in that dark hallway, his uncle’s hand trailing down his chest, but this time his uncles face snapped back with two quick jabs, then it was whipped to the side by a hard right handed hook, before doubling over as Laurent delivered a savage rip into the side of his body. The combination finished, the fantasy started over fresh, his uncles nose crunching under his fist. 

“Alright! Everyone take a quick break and grab some water.”

The command came so suddenly that Laurent slipped in his combination and fell forward into the bag. He managed to grip the bag with his gloved hands before falling over and push himself back up. Damen was next to him in no time, pushing a bottle of cold water into his still gloved hands.

“Hey,” Damen said quietly, pushing a lock of sweaty hair away from his face. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop over exerting yourself.”

He said it with a strained smile. Now that his knew Laurent’s past, he would probably have figured out that Laurent was using the boxing as a way to let out his aggression. He also knew that the past few days had been rough for him.

Laurent didn’t say anything, instead he let his gloves slip off so he could crack the bottle of water and drink from it.

“It helps,” Laurent said.

Damen stepped closer and lightly touched the skin underneath Laurents eyes, his fingers soft as they traced along the bruise like colouring.

“When did you last sleep?” Damen said.

Laurent didn’t answer, which was enough of a giveaway for Damen to guess. Damen sigh and dropped his hand down to grip Laurent’s sweaty wrapped hand and gave it a light squeeze. 

“I wouldn’t have suggested the class if I knew you were this worn out. Why don’t you sit the rest of the class out?”

Laurent had to bite back a vicious verbal assault, except that he _was_ worn out. Once stopping the routine the tired heavy feeling was seeping back into his body. It was enough that he leaned forward, and despite the crowd of people that could see everything, he rested his head on Damen’s shoulder and closed his eyes for a moment. Damen rested his hand on Laurent’s head and pushed him closer still.

“It helps,” Laurent said again, “I’ll calm down, I promise.”

He pulled away and Damen was about to say something else when Nik appeared out his side, handing over a cordless phone.

“It’s Berenger,” he said.

“Take over the class,” Damen said, grabbing the phone and walking away from Laurent with one last glace.

Nik immediately shouted at them to jump back to the bags and jog on the spot. He rounded out his next list of instructions and everyone got back into it, the sound of padded gloves and heavy breaths filling the air once again. Laurent still imagined his uncles face whilst working through the combinations, but this time it was in slow motion, and his attention often swerved to Damen who was sitting by the front desk, still on the phone and scribbling down notes. 

…

The class ended with core strengthening as always and Damen still had not returned from his phone call. While the class filed out and showered, Laurent lay back on one of the benches with another bottle of cold water resting on his neck. He drifted somewhere between awake and asleep as the studio slowly emptied and Nik started shutting the place down until afternoon classes began. Laurent heard Damen’s steady voice, still talking on the phone but not taking anything in.

He was just on the cusp of sleep when he felt a hand on his shoulder, startling him suddenly into wakefulness.

“Are you ready to go?” Damen said.

Laurent nodded and sat up slowly, the air in the studio sweltering and thick with the smell of sweat and rubber mats. With the place closed up it became a hot box and Laurent grimaced at the way his sweat soaked skin stuck and pulled against the bench and his clothing. He yawned and stretched a little, his muscles a little sore but nothing overbearing. He gathered up his belongings while Damen turned off the lights and then they walked outside together.

They parted ways with Nik at the door and then turned up the street where Laurent was happy to notice Damen’s car was parked. He was prepared to have to walk to Damen’s unit but he was glad he didn’t have to. They hadn’t walked far when Damen stopped and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. 

“I want to show you something real quick,” Damen said, walking up to a door not too far down from the studio. 

Laurent hadn’t really taken note of the space next door to the studio. He did observe that it had had a number of different businesses go through it over the months he become familiar with the area. It usually seemed to comprise of pop up businesses selling things like factory run outs and discount shoes. Now Damen was unlocking the door of this space and holding it open for Laurent to enter.

He walked through a little confused as to what was going on, and found himself in a long empty space not too different from the boxing studio next door. There were the same aged brick walls and high windows, but the floor was plain concrete. There was nothing significant about the space to suggest why Damen was bringing him here in the first place and Laurent turned to him with an expression that suggested as much.

“I’ve been trying to get the owner to sell me this space for years,” Damen said, walking up to stand next to Laurent, “These last weeks, I finally managed to convince him.”

“I thought you said you were going to sell off your assets, not buy more?” Laurent said.

“I have been. Berenger, who I was just on the phone with is my lawyer, he’s just helped me finalise the first sale of one of my gyms.”

“But why this space?” Laurent said.

“What is my little boxing studio missing that would make it a proper training sight?”

Laurent thought for a moment before answering, “A boxing ring?”

“Bingo,” Damen said with a smile, “I’m expanding the studio, I’m gonna built this place up, offer professional training. Proper professional training instead of these fitness classes I've been running. This is my focus now.”

Laurent saw it for what it was. This was Damen saying and confirming everything. He was saying, this is it, this is where I’m staying, I’m staying here for you, I’m making my focus here for you. 

Despite the sweat, the wear on his muscles, the general disheveled appearance of the both, Laurent step forward and grabbed Damen by his singlet. Pulling him down he felt them moment their teeth clashed in a small click and their lips pressed together. Surrounded by nothing but empty space and dust, Laurent felt Damen’s hands runs down his waist like a searing hot iron. The touch a delicious pain and the kiss a shock of pure want.

Laurent pulled away only far enough to talk before whispering, “Take me home,” and kissing him again.

…

Damen drove them home, the both of them full of energy when they left. However Laurent was still bone tired and was torn between tearing Damen’s clothes off and having a long cool shower followed by going to bed. He decided to see what came about when they got back to the unit, and that he would let whatever happened, happen. 

When Damen had parked the car the both of them practically ran up the stairs, desperate to be inside. Damen had him pushed against the wall the moment the door closed, their lips pressed together, tongues pushing, playful, purposeful. 

“Shower first,” Laurent managed to say. 

“Yes, right,” Damen said, before continuing to push him against the wall and kissing him again. 

Laurent found himself pushing his hands up Damen’s shirt, running his hands along hard muscles and around the back to his defined shoulder blades.

“I feel like,” Damen said, kissing him again, “I should ask, how far you want to take this?”

Laurent pulled away, a little confused. “I don’t know,” he said, honestly. “I was just gonna see what happened.” Laurent made a point of sliding his hands back around so that his fingers flickered briefly over Damen’s nipples.

“As long as it’s something you want, and you’ll tell me if it’s not.” Damen said, his eyes squeezing shut at the feel of Laurent’s fingers.

“At least,” Laurent said, stopping for a moment to pinch Damen lightly. “Nothing we haven’t already done.”

Laurent dropped his hands to the edge of the singlet and grabbed the ends pulling it up. Damen lifted his arms so that Laurent could pull the shirt up over his head, flinging it to the side when it was off. Laurent took a moment to appreciate Damen’s naked chest, the hard muscle, the curled hair that spread over his chest and down his navel. He ran his hands down, admiring his perfect toned skin and it’s healthy glow.

“Shower,” he said, stepping away and pulling his own singlet off over his head, throwing it to the floor. 

Thanks to the small outlay of the apartment they reached the bathroom in seconds, losing more clothing as they went. Starting with kicking off their shoes until their clothes were scattered like breadcrumbs leading to the bathroom. Damen arousal was obvious even before he removed his pants, and when the pants were gone, a tangled mess on the floor, Laurent felt a hot shock of desire looking at Damen’s erection. 

“One feels inadequate looking at that monster,” Laurent said, and teasingly slid a single finger down the slit of Damen’s cock. 

Damen hissed at the touch and Laurent stepped back out of reach with a smirk, stepping out of his own pants. He took a moment to turn the shower on and adjust the water. Damen stood perfectly still, waiting for a command from Laurent, anything to show where he wanted him. Laurent stepped into the shower, taken a moment to soak his head under the water, relishing in the feeling. He then turned to Damen was a smile and crooked is finger, inviting him into the lukewarm stream of water.

They were kissing again instantly, their chests pressed together and their hands touching whatever they could reach. Damen's hands smoothed round his body, down his back and then over the round cusp of his cheeks. His fingers were daring, teasing as they pulled, spreading him open and dipping in, lightly brushing over his puckered hole. 

Laurent gasped, and jolted at the feeling, pulling away from Damen at the shock of pleasure it created. Damen continued his slow movements of sweeping until he pushed lightly, then sweeping again. At the same time, their cocks were sliding against one another, there wasn’t enough pressure to keep them in a regular rhythm, but the feeling was still there.

“It’s okay,” Laurent said, kissing along Damen’s jaw. “You can push a finger in.”

Damen chuckled softly, continuing to do nothing but stroke and press. 

“Not yet, I wanna clean you out first.”

Laurent didn’t know what he was talking about, and was just going to let that be. Yet he knew that Damen wanted honesty and wanted to know what Laurent was feeling so he asked.

“Clean me out?”

“Um,” Damen said, looking a little embarrassed. “You know, so there is nothing left inside…”

When Laurent still didn’t grasp what he was talking about, Damen pulled away slightly to look at Laurent clearly. Seeing the clear confusion, Damen turned away with a growl and thumped his fist against the tiled walls.

“That fucking bastard,” he said with a hiss, his head thumping a little too hard against the wall. 

Laurent knew that he was missing some basic understanding, and he knew who Damen was thinking of. And if there was one thing he did not need, it was his uncle in the room with them. Stepping forward he wrapped his arms around Damen’s waist and rested his head between the prominent lines of Damen’s shoulder blades. 

“Don’t,” he said, a tinge of fear in his voice, “Don’t ruin this. Don’t talk about it, please don’t talk about it.”

Damen said nothing, but his fist uncleaned and dropped from the wall. He placed it over Laurent’s own hand, and stroked the skin softly.

“Nothing we haven’t already done,” Laurent said, and then, thinking of all the words Damen had said to him, he repeated a sign of trust. “Nothing you don’t want.”

That seemed to get through to Damen as he finally turned around, Laurent’s arms still around him.

“What do you want?” Damen said.

“This,” Laurent said, rolling his hips so they pressed together again, the water slick between them.

“Okay,” Damen said with a groan. “Okay.”

His hips rolled back in response, his arousal still obviously if not a little slackened. They moved slowly, rolling their hips in tandem, trying to find the right rhythm and pressure. They kissed between gasps, their faces pressed close, breathing each other’s breath. Until that moment, Laurent didn’t know how erotic it was to have someones hot breath so close to his face and feel the warmth as he breathed in.

“Can I touch you?” Damen said.

“Yes,” Laurent said instantly with a hard thrust of his hips. 

Damen reached between their hard pressed bodies and wrapped his hand not only around Laurent’s hot cock but his own. His large hand squeezing the two of them together with delicious pressure. Unable to help himself, Laurent pushed up, fucking himself into Damen’s fist. 

“Shit,” Damen breathed, moving his hand up and down slowly.

“Should I do that again?”

“Yes.”

Laurent thrust up again and on his way back Damen thrust himself forward. It was stilted and messy at first, but they found their rhythm, thrusting up and back against each other into Damen’s curled fist. Damen worked into their thrusts well timed squeezes that had them both gasping and groaning. Laurent found himself fumbling for Damen’s free hand, locking their hands together and crushing it into a tight grip.

“Damen,” he said with a groan, his hips twitching out of the sync they had created.

“Me too. Fuck… me too.”

Laurent’s breath hitched in his throat and then he came, hard and still thrusting into Damen’s fist. His breathing came out harsh and he thought for a second his knees would buckle and he would fall to the ground. Instead he crushed Damen’s hand in his until he was done, and then pulled away with a hiss as he began to feel over stimulated.

Damen let out a growl and then started to pump his own dick a lot faster and harder than what they had been doing previously. Slumping back against the wall, his eyes half closed with exhaustion, Laurent watched as Damen brought himself to orgasm with an almost brutal force. He watched as Damen came with one long thick shot of cum and then a slow dribble trickled out, Damen squeezing out every last drop. For some reason, Laurent took note of how dark the head of his cock was, and how, somehow, he found the sight utterly arousing. 

With his heart still thumping in his chest, Laurent closed his eyes and let the exhaustion back in.

“You know,” Laurent said, his eyes closed and speech slurred with his exhaustion. “I really wanted you to fuck me today, but all I want to do right now is sleep.”

Damen was still breathing harshly, Laurent could hear, but he also heard the small laugh that Damen let out. 

“I think one mind blowing orgasm is enough for today, but one day, we’ll go for hours.”

“Hours?” Laurent said with a smile, his eyes still closed.

“My record is seven, but I think we were both trying to out last each other. He was a boxer too, we were both trying to prove that we had more stamina than the other.”

“How did it end?"

“We kind of just gave up, and never saw each other again.”

Laurent laughed and turned around pressing his forehead into the tiles. “I’m so tired I can’t even wash myself.”

“Lucky for you washing my partner is one of my favourite things to do.”

Laurent turned and slumped against Damen instead, his face pressed into Damen’s neck while Damen when through the motions of getting the washer and squeezing the body wash onto it. He didn’t make anything easier for Damen by refusing to move from his spot. Yet Damen didn’t say anything as he slowly and carefully rubbed the washer over his body, cleaning any remnants of the mornings workout and their coupling form his body.

Laurent found himself wondering how many partners Damen had had throughout his life and how inexperienced Laurent was himself. He thought he might be jealous of the way Damen had mentioned previous partners, but it was hard to feel jealous when Damen was washing his body with such care. It helped that it was the perfect opportunity for Damen to take liberties with his body, but he never took them. He washed him methodically and properly, until every part of him was clean.

“Squeaky clean. Why don’t you dry off while I finish up?”

“I thought you already finished?” Laurent said, unable to help himself.

“Ha ha,” Damen said sarcastically.

Laurent left the shower and dried off while Damen washed himself quickly and with a lot less care than he had shown Laurent’s body. Laurent had only just finished drying himself when Damen shut off the water and stepped out. Stepping forward, Laurent threw the towel over Damen’s head and tousled his hair lightly. 

“It’s hot enough you don’t really need to dry off,” Laurent said, whipping the towel away.

“You just like how I look when I’m wet.”

“True,” Laurent said, looking Damen’s wet body up and down. “But that’s not what I meant. Turn the fan on and come to bed.”

Laurent left the bathroom, not bothering with dressing and located his bag where he dropped it by the door. He searched through the bag and located his phone, checking the time. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and he had no news from Auguste. He estimated that with the theme park and a trip to the beach Auguste and the rest probably wouldn’t be returning home until at least six o’clock that evening. Still he sent Auguste a message anyway.

_ 'Hey, I’m out, let me know when you’re leaving the coast so I can be home in time.' _

Laurent moved back into the bedroom where Damen was laid out on the bed, fully naked with the ceiling fan doing things to his hair that Laurent would have found irresistible if he wasn’t so tired. He received a message from Auguste at that moment. All it said was _‘Don’t think I’ll be back anytime soon, enjoy your beefcake’_. The message was accompanied by a video of Elaine and Nicaise both sitting in the front row of a roller coaster, both were over excited and obvious adrenaline junkies. Then they ride took off, both of them screaming out in pure joy. The camera then turned to Auguste’s face, which held an exasperated expression and a raised eyebrow. 

Laurent smiled, but still set his alarm for three o’clock before putting it down on Damen’s bedside table and crawling into bed. It was hot, but that didn’t stop Damen from rolling over and throwing an arm around his waist. 

It was hot, but with the ceiling fan, his general nakedness and his skin cooled from the shower, Laurent finally, after too many days, fell into a deep uninterrupted sleep. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know guys, I really don't.  
> I wanted interaction between the characters but I don't think I did it right.  
> Also sorry for the wait, I have been very busy with University. Only three and a half years to go until I am done...   
>  -_ -,
> 
> TW for mentions of child abuse

The gentle move of fingertips lightly grazing over the skin of his hip, that was the feeling that Laurent kept close. There were many memories made that day, the feel of naked skin pressed to his back, the hard muscle definition clear against his skin. Damen’s nose had pressed into his neck and the wind had tickled Damen’s curls softly against his skin. He had fallen asleep to that presence, and when he woke, groggy and confused, it was to Damen’s head on his chest and Damen’s fingers stroking at his hip, soft and light, an unconscious action as Damen continued to sleep. 

There were other moments, such as Damen waking when Laurent brushed his fingers through his hair, despite being gentle. Damen’s smile upon waking, the way he took a moment to nuzzle back into his chest. Damen scooting up, kissing him softly before pressing into his neck. All the while, his fingers kept moving, stroking his skin with more intent now that he was awake. 

More memories, as Laurent pulled Damen up, kissing him again, loving the way their lips stuck for that one moment as they pulled away. Him laying there amazed that something could cause such a shock of excitement through his body. Further amazement as Damen’s lips moved down to caress and nip at his neck, the warmth of his tongue as it pressed and swirled, all while the fingers on his hip continued to caress the skin of his hip before moving further in.

Damen had taken him into his mouth then, the action not completely unexpected but still a pleasant surprise. The look of Damen’s cheeks, hollowing and filling as he moved up and down, bringing Laurent to release, was another memory. Yet it was the soft fluttering barely there touches of Damen’s fingertips that Laurent had found too distracting throughout his day. 

After waking, and after Damen skillfully bringing him to release they had showered again. There was less touching, but a distinct closeness as they washed the sweat of sleep from their bodies. By the time Laurent left it was four o’clock in the afternoon and he found it difficult to pull himself from Damen’s side. With Damen there was comfort, security, warmth. However they both had things to attend to, Damen to the afternoon classes he was already late for, and Laurent back to Auguste.

It was when he was driving back, that the first memory of those stroking fingers entered his mind. He felt he could lay forever with that simple feeling, the feeling of Damen pressed close, the soft innocent feeling of fingers so close to him, so close to being devisating. Yet the touch was something else, not possession, but a connection. Damen simply wanted to be near him, even in sleep, and Laurent longed for that as if he was reliving an old nostalgic memory. It was the memory he kept close when he pulled up to the place he lived. 

He had sat in the car for awhile, mentally preparing himself for anything that was to come, keeping the memory close. He did not know how long he sat there, but at one point his uncle exited the house to smoke on the front steps. Not wanting his uncle to see him hiding in the car, he left the car and went up to enter the house, ignoring his uncle as he went. There was the barest trace of fingers brushing against the fabric of his pants. He ignored it, not knowing if it was real or imagined. 

He locked himself into his room, going through the normal movements. He kicked off his shoes and plugged his phone in to charge. Then he lay down on his bed and waited, the memory the only thing he could think of. He wondered how many days like that he could have before it did not mean the same thing. 

Not wanting to think of such things, Laurent picked up his phone and played the mind numbing games he had become so acquainted with during his midnight vigils. 

When Auguste and crew arrived home an hour later, Aleron announced that they had the house to themselves as he and uncle were going out for the evening. It was a pleasant surprise that left Laurent feeling more at ease, even as he sat tense in the kitchen, waiting for them to leave. 

Once they did leave, it was only the presences of Auguste that helped him to relax.

“What’s the plans for the night then kids?” Auguste said, rubbing his hands together. 

“Pizza!” Nicasie said.

“Beer!” Elaine added.

Auguste turned to Laurent wanting his input.

“Um… cards?”

Nicaise groaned, but Auguste and Elaine seemed happy enough with his decision. Everyone places their orders and Laurent let Elaine borrow his car to pick up the pizza and beers. While they were out, Auguste and Laurent set up the kitchen table with plates and a pack of cards. Auguste also managed to dig out scrabble from somewhere incase they got bored of cards.

“Now all we need is music.” Auguste said, striding out into the living room.

Laurent followed and found him kneeling down in front of the TV cabinet, going through the collection of CD’s.

“Showing your age there, Auguste? Just play youtube through the TV or something.”

“I’m feeling nostalgic.” Auguste said, brushing the dust from a pile of CD’s. “Look! Harvest!”

Laurent rolled his eyes but sat down next to his brother and started to go through the piles of neglected music. Most of the CD’s had belonged to their mother and had barely been touched since her death. Laurent thought bitterly about how he had tried to play them, but his father had not liked them. He wondered if their parents ever actually liked each other, or if his father really did mourn the passing of his wife. Laurent thought he was not capable of love, yet, he loved Auguste. Just not him.

Laurent found himself sighing, causing Auguste to look up.

“Something wrong?” he said.

“No,” Laurent said, continuing through the piles, “Just a lot of memories.”

Auguste nodded, but kept silent. They had not spoken much of their mother’s death, Auguste was away, and only came back for the funeral, his studies would not allow much else. Whenever he did try to talk to him, Laurent had backed away and then, too much time had passed and neither of them knew how to approach the subject.

“Speaking of memories,” Auguste said, perking up. “Look what I found.”

In his hands was the album ‘ _So_ ’.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘ _Don’t give up_ ’.” Auguste said, trying to sing with a voice not made for music. 

“Stop it!”

“Aww, still emotional about Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush?”

Laurent, age eight, had watching the film clip to ‘ _Don’t give up_ ’ and promptly burst into tears. Auguste would not have been a true older brother if he had not teased him about it at every given chance.

“Let’s start with this.”

“You’re horrible.”

“But you love me!”

‘ _I do_ ,’ Laurent thought, but did not voice.

“At least you’ve got enough practise to embarrass your children.” Laurent said instead.

“Um. About that.”

“Elaine’s pregnant?” Laurent said, surprised, but not completely repulsed at the idea.

“No!” Auguste said, holding up his hands. “The exact opposite really. Um… Elaine and I, we don’t really want kids. We’ve talked about it, and well… neither of us really want to take that path.”

“Oh,” was all Laurent could say. He had just always assumed that his brother would want a family of his own.

“Don’t sound disappointed.” Auguste said.

“I’m not, just surprised. I thought you wanted a family is all.”

“Really? You saw me that way?” Auguste said, breaking out into a laugh. “Neither of us are keen on the whole baby making thing. We have agreed that we will consider adoption some time in the future.”

“That a worthy endeavour.” Laurent said, not knowing what else to say.

“Adopting a dog.” Auguste said, laughing again.

When he was done he took the CD he was teasing Laurent with earlier and moved towards the sound system.

“Ugh,” Auguste said, brushing even more dust off of the sound system. “Does this ever get cleaned.

“I never really get around to much cleaning, just the kitchen and the bathroom.”

Auguste shrugged and put the CD in, the disk wurrling and loading before music started to play softly through the speakers. They continued to sort through the piles, putting away the albums they did not want to hear and stacking the ones they did next to the player. When they thought they had enough prepared, they stood up to head back to the kitchen, Auguste stopping for a moment to turn the music up loud enough to be heard in the other room.

“Let’s play a few rounds before they get back,” Auguste said, shuffling the cards. “Poker, blackjack or gin?”

“Gin.”

Auguste dealt the cards out and they managed to play two hands before Elaine and Nicaise returned. Nicaise held four pizza boxes along with a stack of garlic bread, whilst Elaine had a carton of beer slung over her shoulder. In her spare hand she held a bag filled with soft drink.

“A whole carton?” Auguste said, looking concerned.

“There is three of us, and I promised Nicaise a shandy. Besides they’re only mids.”

“Laurent doesn’t drink.”

“I might be forced into having a few.” Laurent said, taking the soft drink out of Elaine's hand and putting it away in the fridge.

And it was because he was feeling light and happy. He had had a good day, his father and uncle were gone and he was sitting with his brother, the woman his brother loved and a slightly annoying but somehow endearing teenager. He wanted to participate, he wanted to have a few beers, lick greasy cheese from his fingers and beat people at cards. Even Nicaise dropping the pizza on the table and groaning about the music did nothing to ruin his mood. 

The track ended and ‘ _Don’t give up_ ’ started to play, Auguste raised his eyebrow with a smirk on his face. Laurent smiled back before helping Elaine unload the beers into the fridge. 

…

Four beers, five slices of pizza and many hours later, Laurent was feeling light headed and sleepy. They had moved on from gin to 500 after everyone got sick of losing to Laurent, only for them to lose all over again with the beginning of a new game. After one game of 500 in which Laurent won, they moved on to Scrabble. Which Laurent also won, but only just, as Nicaise turned out to be a formidable opponent for a 13 year old. 

“I can’t bare to lose again,” Auguste moaned, with his head on the table. 

“Me either,” Elaine said.

Between the two of them they had drank more than half the carton, which wasn’t bad for two people in their thirties that didn’t drink often. Nicaise had gotten his promised shandy and had been trying to get another one ever since. Yet even his energy had started to wain after a day of excitement and the simply astonishing amount of pizza he had eaten. 

“Time for bed.” Laurent said, packing away scrabble.

Everyone agreed and started to do the most basic of cleaning. Scraps in the bin, plates in the sink and leftovers in the fridge. The empty bottles were left on the counter to be taken to the recycling in the morning. 

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Auguste said to Elaine as she tried to poke Nicaise out of his seat to help.

“I don’t want to think about tomorrow, but I wanted to try going into the city again.”

“Eww,” Nicaise said.

“Do you mind if Laurent comes? He might have some ideas.” Auguste said.

“Of course I don’t mind.” Elaine said, throwing him a smile.

“Excellent,” Auguste said, throwing an arm around Elaine and started to pull her out of the room. “Until tomorrow.”

Nicaise followed after them, and Laurent called after him, “Don’t forget to lock your door.” He probably would not have said it had he not drank four beers, but he felt it needed to be said nonetheless. Nicaise did not acknowledge that he had heard, but when Laurent listened hard, he heard the rattle of the lock slipping into place.

It was not particularly late, but not knowing when his father would be home, Laurent made himself a pot of coffee. He was still running off of too little sleep, and was regretting the beers that he had drank, yet he had to stay vigilant. He took his pot of coffee to his room and set himself up for the night, pulling his phone off of charge and seeing that he had missed a number of messages from Damen. 

He smiled to himself, replied to Damen’s concerns and once again, started up on his games. 

…

His father and uncle had returned home around midnight, in that time Laurent had discovered a website that had gathered a number of retro games to play for free that he was engrossed in on his laptop. Upon hearing them arrive home he put the laptop aside and crept closer to the door, listening in for anything. 

Yet there was nothing, they did not speak to one another. They simply entered the house, locked up after them and went to their respective rooms. Laurent waited for five minutes after the sound of closing doors before he peaked out. The house was empty and silent. Opening the door further, he pulled his chair out to the doorway before making his way to the kitchen to top up his long cold coffee. He also grabbed a few leftover slices of pizza before making his way back to his room.

There he chewed on cold pizza and tried to finish old sega games. 

…

The next morning Laurent was sickened at the thought of coffee and rejected the cup a slightly hungover Auguste offered to him. Elaine seemed to be faring much worse and was taking intermittent sips of coffee between munching on what was left of the pizza. Laurent’s head was buzzing and his eyes hurt from looking at a computer screen for hours on end, he was also slightly bitter that he could not beat a 25 year old version of the lion king game. 

“Still want to go into the city guys?” Auguste asked, opting for toast over cold pizza.

“Well I don’t want to sit here all day.” Naised said, entering the room and opening the fridge like he owned the place. 

“I’m fine if you guys are.” Laurent said.

“I’m dead,” Elaine said, “Or dying, one of the two.”

“Me too, babe,” Auguste said. “Me too.”

“You guys suck.” Nicaise said.

“Just an idea,” Auguste said. “And if everyone is okay with it. I vote, that Elaine and I stay here and figure out if we’re dead or in the midst of dying, and Laurent can distract Nicaise for the day.”

“Hey!” Nicaise said.

“I trust your brother with my brother,” Elaine said, waving her hand in dismissal.

And that was how, Laurent found himself sitting on a bus next to Nicaise and trying not to fall asleep. They mostly ignored each other, both of them reading their own books, Laurent occasionally stopping to send a text to Damen or Auguste, asking him how his head felt. 

Laurent had at one point decided he had not read enough Shakespeare in his life and was working his way through Hamlet. Nicaise however was reading a very familiar book.

“I’ve read that,” Laurent said, having had enough of Hamlet and ghosts.

Nicaise scoffed and muttered something that sounded like ‘doubt it’.

“Oh?” Laurent said, remember back months ago to when he first read the book. “Then how would I know that in the end, Lachlan decides that…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Nicaise said loud enough that the rest of the passengers looked up.

“I’ll be happy to talk to you more about it when you’re finished.”

Laurent settled back with a smile on his face and even let himself doze for the rest of the journey, letting Nicaise wake him up with a poke to the rips when they had reached the central bus station. 

Since Laurent had not planned on taking this particular trip he did not know where to start. Yet since it was close to the station Laurent lead Nicaise to a store that not only sold the latest consoles and games, but also had a number of retro consoles set up that could be played by the hour. Nicaise as usual, tried to look bored, but perked up when he saw mario kart 64 and refused to play anything else. Laurent lost many times and Nicaise could not help but to rub it in his face every time. 

Having enough of losing and feeling a bit sorry for Auguste after his own continuous wins the previous night, Laurent dragged Nicaise from the store and instead lead him to a cookie stall that Damen had introduced him to. Because for some reason he thought loading Nicaise full of sugar was a good thing. 

They both picked out a bag of ‘nibblers’, small soft cookies of various flavours, before moving on. They crossed the bridge over the river that slashed through the city and ended up at the museum. They stuffed their cookies into their pockets and made a show of seeing who could pull a cookie out without the other noticing. It became a game to see who could eat the most without being caught by security. From there it progressed to seeing how close they could get to an exhibit with cookie in hand. 

The were asked to leave after forty minutes. 

“It’s unfortunate really, we didn’t even get to see the giant squid in a box.”

“They have a giant squid?!” Nicaise said, cookie crumbs spilling from his mouth.

“What’s that? We have something your so much more awesome and much more cooler city doesn’t?”

“Of course we have a giant squid!” Nicaise said, reaching into his bag of cookies, only to find it empty.

There was every reason not to like Nicasie, yet somehow, Laurent liked him. With a smile that was  just a little bit smug, Laurent handed over his bag of cookies that was still mostly full. 

Nicaise snatched them out of his hand and mumbled something that could have been a thank you. 

From the museum they walked along the river’s edge and came to a giant metal construct that spelt out the city’s name. It was not supposed to be climbed on, but everyone did, and when Nicaise ran towards it, climbing up a giant metal ‘A’, Laurent followed him. They chased each other over the top, and even started a rather dangerous game of tag with the other people climbing the structure. 

When they had enough, Laurent bought them both kebabs and they walked slowly back across the bridge to the CBD. By that point Laurent was running out of ideas, but it was early afternoon so he only had to entertain Nicaise for a little bit longer. Not that entertaining Nicaise was much of a problem, the more time Laurent spent with Nicaise, the more he liked him. 

He had one more idea in mind that would help to distract Nicaise long enough before they had to return to the house. It was a bit of a walk from the river, and Nicaise complained the whole way even as he ate his kebab. 

When they reached the building that looked as non discrepant as always, Laurent stopped them at the door and turned to Nicaise. 

“I know you don’t want to be lectured,” Nicaise rolled his eyes at this point. “But this is like entering a library and a museum. I know what we did earlier, but this place is full of valuable things, that are not as easily protected behind glass and could be damaged. So just appreciate and respect it.”

Nicaise for once, looked solemn and nodded uneasily. Laurent smiled at him and lead him into the secondhand book store that was more like an archive of the human race.

“A book store,” Nicaise scoffed, even as his eyes roamed the towering selves.

“A bookstore, with many first and limited editions. Have you read the call of the wild?” Laurent said, walking down to the back of the store and entering the classics section. 

“Everyone has,” Nicaise said, crossing his arms, yet his eyes still roamed.

“And did you like it?”

“I guess, it was okay.”

Leading them through the classics section, Laurent hoped what he was looking for was still there. Reaching the ‘L’ section, Laurent was happy to find it still was. He pulled the plastic wrapped book down from the shelf and carefully handed it to Nicaise.

Nicaise for all his bravado and stinging, disinterested words, was silenced when he held the book in his hands. The cover was a tightly woven fabric in pale green. The title “The call of the wild” was stamped out in large black letters in the middle. Above and below the words were two teams of sled dogs racing in opposite directions. The sleds were both unique, with each dog different from the other, it was only when one looked close enough, that it was obvious. 

“Open it up,” Laurent said. Holding his hands under Nicaise’s incase he dropped it. 

Inside, the pages were stained, which was why it was out in the general collection instead of behind the counter with the other antiques. The spine was also damaged and falling apart, but overall it was still a fine book. 

“1908,” Nicaise said in a whisper.

“Five years after it was originally published,” Laurent said. “Now check the tag.”

Nicaise slowly lifted the tag that was taped to the protective covering and very nearly dropped the book.

“Two hundred and ninety dollars.” Nicaise mumbled.

“You should see the copy they keep behind the counter.” Laurent said, before taking the book from his hands and placing it back on the shelf.

Laurent lead Nicaise out of the classics section after shocking him and instead lead him to the general second hand section. The books were more modern and far cheaper, ranging from 2 to 20 dollars, depending on the edition and quality of the book. Laurent gave him twenty dollars and told him to pick out whatever he wanted. Nicaise snatched the money and started to scourer the shelves. Laurent stayed close enough not to lose him, but still kept his distance. 

Together they searched through the sheves, Laurent picking out a few books for himself whilst Nicaise agonised over the limit of his twenty dollars. He picked up and put back a number of books but seemed to settle on the same four books consistently. 

“What do you have?” Laurent said, his words stifled by a long yawn.

“Tired?” Nicaise said, hiding the books he had chosen from view.

“Constantly.” Laurent said, pulling a random book out and reading the description on the back. 

“It must be tiring sitting in your doorway all night drinking coffee.”

The book Laurent held dropped from his hand. “What?”

“You know, at first I thought you were a weirdo, then I thought you were a pervert.” Nicaise was calm as he talked, searching through the books. “Then I met your creepy uncle.”

The air sucked from his lungs and Laurent tried to make sense of what was being said to him. Nicaise knew, he knew, but Laurent did not know how much he knew. He rushed over to him and knelt before him, looking up into Nicaise’s bright blue eyes.

“Nicaise, has he said anything to you? Has he done anything that makes you feel uncomfortable?”

Nicaise scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“No,” he said, as if insulted. “I haven’t even gotten anything out of him yet.”

Nausea rose up and he felt the need to be sick. He choked it down, feeling the sickness stick in his throat, ever present and trembling. 

“What do you mean?” he said instead.

“You know don’t you? I can tell you know. They give you a few things and you let them touch you, it’s not that bad.” Nicasie said, shrugging one shoulder like it was nothing. “That’s how I got the latest CoD, mum wouldn’t buy it for me so I have to hide it.”

What he had been trying to protect Nicaise from had already happened. He had not noticed, that this child was already closer to him than he wanted. What was worse to him was that Nicaise could see it, he could see what had happened to him. 

There was the hot taste of metal in his mouth and he did not know if it was the taste of blood or fear. 

“Nicaise, has… what has my uncle done?” Laurent said, resisting the urge to take Nicasie by the shoulders and shake him.

“Not much, just touched my leg. I wanted to see what I could get out of him first. You’re easy though, I mean you just gave me twenty dollars.” Nicaise said with a laugh, like Laurent was the one being used. 

There was a hot intense feeling building at the back of his head, and then it started to throb. He could feel it behind his eyes and his hands shook with the intensity of it.   
“Are you ready to leave?” Laurent said, trying not to clench his teeth, for if he did he would surely break a tooth or two. 

“I could use another twenty or so.” NIcaise said with a wink.

“We’re leaving now,” Laurent said, grabbing Nicaise by the arm.

Somehow, Laurent managed to process the ability to buy the books he had in his arms and wait as Nicaise made his own purchases with the money he had given him. 

There were no words spoken between them as Laurent pushed his way through the afternoon crowd to the bus stop that would take them back. He thought about texting Auguste and warning him, he thought about calling Damen and begging him to help him calm down. 

Yet as they boarded the bus and Nicaise pulled out a book as if nothing had happened, Laurent knew this was something he had to do himself, something he needed and wanted to do on his own. 

The people who had abused Nicaise before could wait, but his uncle, his uncle he could reach. 

The straw had finally broken his back. 

  
  



	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in end notes.  
> Thanks for sticking around guys, I'm gonna try and get this finished before Uni starts up again.  
> I'm also working on another one shot that I hope to have finished within the week.   
> Hope you'll all join me there.  
> Thanks for reading again!

The worst part of the bus trip back, was the realisation that Nicaise thought that he was like his uncle. That Nicaise thought the entire day of showing him things he would enjoy, buying him food, giving him money, was a way for Laurent to be able to touch him. ‘ _You’re easy,'_  he had said. He thought of the way Nicaise had winked at him when asking for another twenty dollars. 

He did not know how long or how deep the abuse Nicaise had suffered had been going on because of the way he seemed to be so comfortable with it. His personality made it hard to pin, but for however long it had been going on, it was still far too long. It should never have happened at all, and yet Nicaise was there next to him, thinking Laurent wanted something from him, or worse, that he was trying to win his attention over his uncles. 

‘ _Just touched my leg,'_  Nicaise had said. Yet what did that touch entail?

Beside him, Nicaise worked through his book, the book that had brought Damen to him, but now felt like a disease. His happy memory was slowly being replaced by the image of a child, reading books a little bit too advanced for him. All he could think about when he saw the title was Nicaise and what had happened to him, and the people out there who had done those things to him. 

His uncle he could reach, but before everything fell apart, he needed to know. 

“Nicaise?” Laurent said, trying to focus.

“What,” he said harshly, snapping his book shut.

“Who are they?”

“What?”

“Before, you said you just let them…” Laurent said, leaving the words hanging so as not to say it out loud on the bus.

“Why want to get in contact?” Nicaise said, all smiles again. “I’ll tell you for another twenty, actually make it a fifty.”

“I’ll give you a fifty when we get back if you tell me,” Laurent said, hating himself for making Nicaise think he was like them.

“Well, first there was my maths teacher, Mister Stephenson.”

For the next ten minutes Nicaise rolled off a number of names and even gave Laurent their contact details. He talked as if he was proud of the number of people he had been abused by, happily telling Laurent everyone and their numbers as well as who they were, where they worked, and how he had met them. Everything. Laurent typed all the details down into the notes section of his phone. 

In the end he had a list of five people with full names and contact details, there were another three that Nicaise did not even know that names of, but he had given Laurent the place he had met them. It was nothing more than a street in a city that Laurent did not know, but it was something. 

“You know if it’s pictures you want,” Nicaise said, almost boasting. “Then you really want to get into contact with, Scott.”

“Tell me,” Laurent said. And Nicaise did, it was all too easy for him to tell. Laurent kept calm during the exchange of information, even as sweat build up across his body and his mouth dried. His tongue feeling like nothing but a dry sponge of muscle forcing saliva down his throat. 

He was so engrossed that they almost missed their stop, yet somehow Laurent managed to push the stop button in time for them to get off the bus. Nicaise seemed overly pleased with himself as they walked back to the house. Laurent figured he was thinking of the fifty dollars he had promised him, or perhaps he was thinking that all the people he had just unintentionally ratted out would be proud of him in some way. Whatever it was, the day was not going to end the way Nicaise thought it would. Laurent did not know what he was going to when he returned to the house, but whatever it was, it was not going to be a calm and quiet conversation.

While they were walking Laurent, copy and pasted the information Nicaise had given him into two seperate emails. The first he saved to his drafts and the second he sent to his student email. Not satisfied, he saved another copy into his Google docs and then after some more thought, he organised another email to be sent to someone else. Whatever was about to happen there was one person who needed to know. 

He knew there were other places he should have sent the information, and in time he would, but right now, the house was in view and he had to deal with his own feelings first. It was selfish, he knew, but if he did not act now, he did not know if he would act at all.

“Go find Auguste and Elaine,” Laurent said, pushing Nicaise up the stairs.

“What about my fifty?”

“Later, just go.”

Nicaise scoffed but ran up the steps anyway, disappearing into the house. Not knowing what to do next, Laurent waited down at the base of the steps. He tried to calm himself whilst forcing down the sickness creeping through his body and lodging in his throat. He felt like he would choke on it. He had to do something, yet all he could do was stand rigid at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up into the open door that led to a place that was for him nothing but a house of pain and tears. 

As it turned out, he did not even have to enter the house as his uncle appeared, cigarette in hand. He stopped for a moment upon seeing Laurent and then smiled to himself before lighting the cigarette and walking down the steps. 

“Did you have an enjoyable day out?” he said, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps.

“It did.” Laurent said, staring straight into his eyes.

“And how was he? Nicaise? I found him to be… most agreeable,” he said, the slightest smirk adorning his face.

Some time between his uncle finishing his sentence and looking down to flick the ash from his cigarette, Laurent had surged forward and slammed his forehead directly into his uncle’s nose. As he stumbled back, his head throbbing with pain, his first thought was that Damen would not approve of headbutting and would want him to focus more on his technique. So even as his head throbbed, he straightened up and pushed himself into the correct stance.

His uncle had stumbled back, but not fallen over. His nose was dripping a steady stream of blood and the cigarette lay forgotten on the ground. By the time he had righted himself and turned to Laurent with hateful and controlling menace in his eyes, Laurent was ready. When his uncle stepped forward, Laurent met him with two quick rips from his left hand to the underside of uncle's ribs. He followed with a hook from his right hand which sent his uncle stumbling away. 

Following after him, Laurent heard the booming voice of Damen in his head.

_ ‘Next up I want jab, jab, cross, rip, rip, cross, go.’ _

He delivered the blows that were spoken to him to his uncle, even as he felt the skin between his knuckles split and start to bleed.

_ ‘Low rips, everyone, I want as many as you can in a minute, focus on speed more than strength!’ _

This time it was Vannes’ voice he heard. Her classes of pure endurance coming to him as he straightened his uncle and delivered a flurry of quick and constant blows to his uncle’s stomach and ribs. 

Even Nikandros had a weigh in on his thoughts, as he remembered the ways that Nikandros had described the way to deliver the perfect uppercut. The strength that was behind it, the way to twist, the muscles that were involved from his calves to his abdominals to his biceps and forearms. 

The blow he delivered connected squarely to the underside of his uncles jaw, with a satisfying spray of blood and saliva spewing from his mouth. As his uncle crumpled to the ground, blood and gore dribbling from his mouth, Laurent distantly hoped that he had bitten off his tongue. 

Looking down on his crumpled and bloody figure, his uncle let out a moan of pain and to Laurent’s delight, whimpered. Standing over him, Laurent looked down at him and realised he was not as big as he thought he was. In his mind, his uncle was a large and menacing creature, something with claws that had sunk into his mind and his body. Now as he lay before him, whimpering and bloodied, Laurent saw him for what he really was. He was nothing more than human flesh, a body of muscle and blood like his own. Something that could be abused like he had been.

Something that could be hurt.

Whilst he had spent the last few months focusing on the correct way to land a hit with his fists, his legs had also been strengthened with the meticulous workouts he had been through. All those rocked jumped turned out to be useful as he stepped forward with his left leg, his right leg swinging forward and connecting with brutal force between his uncles legs. His uncle shouted in pain for a moment before his breath seemed to leave him. The low left him gasping and wide eyed on the ground, his body twitching in pain.

“This is nothing,” Laurent said, leaning down to grab his uncle by the collar of his shirt. “Get on your feet and face it.”

His uncle's feet slipped and stumbled as Laurent dragged him up. Laurent could feel the way his muscles tensed and bulged, not completely capable of lifting the weight he was. He managed however, as his uncle was once again upright, his body sagging and swaying. He hacked out blood and Laurent noticed with glee how the blood flowed freely from his mouth.

“We’re not done yet, there is more pain for you to feel.”

Laurent pushed him back as he released his hold, and as he stumbled Laurent stepped forward again and swung his right arm to deliver what would be a horrific hook to the side of his uncle’s head. As his arm swung, with aim true, he felt arms lock around his waist and pull him away, swinging him around and sending him crashing into the concrete footpath that led to the steps of the house.

Before he had time to register there was the impact of a blow to the small of his back, the force of it sending him rolling into the fence that surrounded the property. Dazed for a moment, he stared up into the clear blue sky of a summers day and thought to himself that the day had started out so good. He managed to think that it was more than a little humid and that it would probably storm later. The day continued to be ruined when the face of his father appeared above him.

“Get out of this house,” he said with a hiss, his teeth clenched so tight that spit seeped through the gaps of his aged teeth. 

“Do you know what he did?” Laurent said, trying to push himself up even as his vision rolled and left him off balance.

“Leave,” his father said again. 

Like a reenactment of moments earlier, his father reached down and grabbed Laurent by his collar, hauling him to his feet. 

“You should know what he did,” Laurent said, his tongue rolling about his mouth like some foreign being. “Wait! You know what he did!”

With a smile, Laurent rolled his tongue, collecting the spit and blood that had gathered in his mouth and spat it out directly into his father’s face. The glistening blob of blood streaked saliva hit his father's forehead and rolled down the curve of his nose. His father responded by doing something he had wanted to do for years, he struck Laurent directly across the face, hitting his nose and sending him out of the gate and onto the footpath.

“Your cross needs a little work,” Laurent said, forcing himself upright. 

His father pulled his arm back to hit him again, but this time he was stopped. Auguste had appeared and grabbed their father by the shoulders, pulling and then pushing him away in a far gentler way than Laurent would have permitted.

With his father subdued, Laurent was able to take in the scene before him. His father was still fuming, trying to get to him. Auguste was pushing their father back, trying to talk to him in soft and calming words, something Laurent knew would not work. On the other side, his uncle was stumbling to his feet, blood flowing freely from multiple points of his face.

In the doorway of the house stood Elaine and Nicaise. Nicaise looked pale, him mouth spread into a grim line at the scene he had witnessed. However, Elaine did not share his face of fear, but she did grip tight to Nicaise’s shoulders and held him close to her. The look on her face was instead one of pure hatred and it was directed at his uncle.

“Get out,” his father said.

Laurent looked to Auguste, but could not catch his eye as he was talking to their father. Looking up to the house, Laurent watched as Elaine turned her back, ushering Nicaise back into the house. His uncle was slowly pulling himself up the stairs of the house, his head bent as blood continued to drip from his nose. For a second, his uncle turned to look at him, and despite the swelling growing on his face, he sent Laurent the smallest of smirks. 

_‘I’ve still won.’_ It said.

Still feeling light headed and dizzy, Laurent pulled his keys from his pocket and climbed into his car. He knew he should not be driving, but he had to get away. It took him more than one go to get the keys into the ignition, but when he did, he revved the car, pulled forward and then reversed his car right back into his father’s BMW. _‘Why not?’_   He thought to himself.

While he changed gears, Auguste appeared at the window, hammering away and looking confused.

“What the fuck?” He said.

It was all Laurent needed to put the car into gear. 

“Make sure you lock the doors.” Laurent said, as the taste of blood filled his mouth.

As he drove away, he watched in the rear view mirror as Auguste chased after him. He saw the moment Auguste gave up before he turned a corner and left them all behind. 

…

He drove aimlessly for some time, keeping to the suburban streets and driving slowly and carefully. His head still throbbed along with his back and his hands. He knew that he was bleeding from his head and his hands. It was hard for him to care as he circled the streets, driving with no purpose other than to get away. 

As he drove, the humidity thickened and the storm clouds started to gather. He did not know how long he had driven for, but the storm clouds pulled him out of it and made him realise that he needed to go somewhere. He turned the car around, and started to head back to Damen’s place. It was only six thirty, and he knew that Damen was running the night classes that day with the last class starting at eight and finishing at nine. 

The storm hit as he rounded the corner to Damen’s street, the rain lashing with such intensity that he could barely see through the windshield. He managed to drive himself close enough to Damen’s unit before finding a place to pull over. Parking the car, Laurent turned off the engine and let himself sit in the force of nature. The car rocked from the intensity of the wind, a slow gentle movement like the rocking of a cradle. 

Taking his seat belt off, Laurent climbed into the backseat of the car, laying down as the storm continued to rage. His head still throbbed, but when he touched his fingers to his head there was only the faintest touch of blood to his fingers. He inspected the split skin of his knuckles and likewise found the blood there had stopped flowing, instead congeling and crusting around the split skin.

“I’m so tired of it all,” Laurent said to himself before slipping into sleep, the rythmic sound of rainfall lulling him into security. 

…

It felt like seconds, but it could have been hours when he opened his eyes again. He noted first, that it was not longer storming, the night disturbingly still as it only ever was after a storm. He realised also that it was the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket and the buzzing against his leg that had woken him. Fumbling for his phone, he pulled it from his pocket and squinted at the screen, noting that it was Damen calling him. Swiping the screen, Laurent held the phone up to his ear.

“Hello,” he said, his voice a croaked mumble.

“Hey,” Damen said. “I just got home and I thought I saw your car parked up the street. Are you around here somewhere? I should get you a key cut.”

“That would be an excellent idea.” Lauren said, trying to sit up. His head still throbbed but not as intensely as before. His whole body was stiff from the work out he had put it through when beating his uncle, along with the awkward position he had slept in.

“I’ll organise it. Where are you?” Damen said.

“In the car, I’ll be up in a second.”

“Okay, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you, see you in a minute.”

“Damen.”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

Laurent hung up before Damen could say anything. After hanging up, he noticed a pile of messages and missed calls from Auguste.

18:04 _‘Where are you?’_

18:12 _‘What the fuck is going on?’_

18:15 _‘Dad is going mental.’_

18:32 [Missed call, Auguste]

18:45 _‘Are you okay?’_

18:54 [Missed call, Auguste]

19:03 _‘Where are you?’_

19:43 _‘Nicaise has locked himself in his room. Elaine is freaking out. Why did you put a lock on his door?’_

19:44 [Missed call, Auguste]

19:47 _‘Please just tell me if you’re alright.’_

20:07 _‘Dad just left in the car with uncle, he’s fucking pissed. He wanted to call the police on you. Please, please answer me.’_

20:17 _‘Nicaise is still in the room, he’s fucking traumatised! What the fuck is going on Laurent?!?!?!’_

20:18  _‘I’m sorry, please answer me.’_

20:38 [Missed call, Auguste]

20:49 _‘Don’t make me track your phone. You know I will!’_

21:12 [Missed call, Auguste]

21:14 _‘That’s it…’_

The last message was fifteen minutes old, long enough for Auguste to have figured out where he was if he was truly serious about tracking his phone. He had no doubt that Auguste could do it with his background. He could tell Auguste to back off, ring him and assure him, however he felt it was too late. If Auguste wanted to come to him, then he would let him. He would rather the conversation take place with Damen present anyway. He did not know how Auguste would react, and if it ended badly, at least he would have Damen there. 

Locking his phone, Laurent shoved it back into his pocket and hauled himself out of the car. He felt worse standing up, with sharpe pains striking at random across his forehead and behind his eyes. His hands hurt as well, the knuckles had split and the kick his father had delivered to his back was making itself known. Most of his pain, was because of his own actions though, and no matter what pain he was in, it was a comfort to know that his uncle was most likely felling far worse. 

As he pulled himself up the stairs to Damen’s unit, he wondered where his father had taken uncle. Obviously to be seen too but a doctor, but probably not to a hospital as there would be too many questions. Also from the time of Auguste’s message, it seemed to be over an hour after the initial fight before his father had acted. Time taken to find someone who would not ask questions or involve the police. Laurent could only assume it was Auguste’s intervention that had stopped his father calling them in the first place. 

The steps hurt his back more than anything, and his body had an all over ache, but overall he was feeling good. He did not know if the light feeling in his body was from a weight being lifted or the result of his exhaustion. Whichever it was, he would deal with it later. Now all he needed to do was get to Damen’s, maybe have a shower and make a cup of tea. 

The door was open as Damen had promised and he let himself in. He was greeted by the sight of Damen, still in his work out clothes, stirring a pot that looked to contain pasta.  

“Did you get another night away?” Damen said, not looking up from his pasta.

“Not exactly, something came up. Also, I think I’m homeless.”

That caused Damen to turn around, and when he did the wooden spoon in his hand dropped to the floor.

“What the fuck?”

“Hello.”

Damen was in front of him in three quick steps, his hands taking hold of Laurent’s shoulders in an almost painful grip.

“What the fuck happened?” Damen said, his grip tightening.

Laurent could only imagine what he looked like with dried blood clinging to his head and hands. His eyes and nose itched with injury and as much as Laurent had mocked his father’s blow, it was probably making itself known by now. 

“Calm down, we don’t want you putting any more holes in the wall.” Laurent said, trying to pull himself away from Damen.

“What happened?” Damen said again, his face twisting horribly as anger took over him.

“I did something I should have done a long time ago,” Laurent said, twisting away. “Damen, please, you’re hurting me.”

Damen’s face changed again, dropping from rage to concern. His grip loosened and he dropped his hands to run down Laurent’s arms until he gripped his hands.

“I’d really like a shower,” Laurent said, stepping forward to rest against Damen. “And a cup of tea.” Damen’s hand found the back of his head and pulled him closer, his other hand releasing Laurent’s hand to wrap around him. 

“It must be bad if you’re wanting tea over coffee.”

Laurent snorted against his chest and thought that if Damen could joke despite everything, then maybe it was going to be okay. 

They stood like that for another minute before Damen pulled away. He quickly turned and took the pot from the stove and shut off the gas before turning back to Laurent. He led him into the bathroom and turned the water on in the shower while Laurent undressed. His phone started to ring again, but he ignored it, setting the still ringing phone to balance on the bathroom sink.

“Not going to answer?” Damen said, starting to take his own clothes off.

“It’ll just be Auguste,” Laurent said, stepping into the shower and holding his hand out for Damen. 

“And you’re not answering because?”

“It’s a conversation that is better to have face to face. Best have three cups of tea ready, he threatened to track my phone.”

“Can he do that?” Damen said, grabbing his body wash and squirting it into this hands. He rubbed it into a lather before stepping forward. “Close your eyes.”

“He can,” Laurent said, before closing his eyes.

He let Damen gently wash his face, the soap stinging the cut on his forehead slightly but it was not too unbearable. 

“How did you get this cut? It doesn’t look too bad, but facial cuts always bleed too much.”

“It happened when I connected my forehead to my uncles nose.”

Damen dropped his hands and pulled Laurent into the spray of water, washing the suds and the blood from his face. 

“Not that he didn’t deserve it but, headbutting can be extremely dangerous,” Damen said.

Just as Laurent predicted, Damen gave him a lecture about unsafe fighting techniques and proper practice. He smiled through it, as Damen washed down his body, taking special care with his hands. When he noticed the bruising on his back from his father's kick he stopped, his hands gripping him again almost painfully. 

Then instead of lecturing, Damen started to describe how to properly execute a headbutt, where to aim while causing the other person the most damage and himself the least. Which muscles to use and how to know when to attempt the move.

“Despite everything that could have gone wrong, I think I did an excellent job of breaking his nose.”

Damen smiled, even though his face was tight with concern, but Laurent found it hard to take anything seriously when they were both naked with their hair plastered to their heads.

“Tell me what happened?” Damen whispered to him, stepping forward to gently kiss the stinging cut on his forehead.

“Turn around,” Laurent said.

Damen did without question. 

Laurent pulled the shampoo down and lathered it in his hands before reaching up and washing Damen’s hair. As his fingers scratched at Damen’s scalp, Laurent told him the story. He refrained from telling him about Nicaise’s abuse, as Damen had not even known he had existed until that point. Instead he told a stunted story, glazing over the details and instead telling Damen that Nicaise had told him his uncle had touched his leg, nothing more. 

He told, Damen how he somehow thought, stupidly, that his uncle would not risk doing anything that would affect Auguste. He apologised for not telling Damen, because he was scared. He felt shame, that he had not done something sooner. That even knowing what his uncle was like, he had said nothing thinking his night time vigils were enough.

He hated himself then, and he wondered if Damen would hate him too. Knowing that he had kept silent with another child in the house. 

Damen pried Laurent’s fingers from his hair, and for a moment he thought Damen was going to push him away. Instead he wrapped Laurent’s arms around his waist, bringing Laurent forward to lean against his back. Damen locked their fingers together, his body rigid with what Laurent could only assume was fury.

“Go on,” was all Damen said.

And so Laurent did, telling him a blow by blow account of what he had done to his uncle. He even describe the way blood had flown from his mouth as he delivered, what was in his mind, a perfect uppercut. And then his father had intervened, and the rest did not need to be told. 

“What’s next?” Damen said.

Laurent pulled away and shut the water off, the silence that followed the lack of water somehow ominous and telling. 

“Next we have a cup of tea with my brother. My father and uncle aren’t at the house and Nicaise is locked in his room as far as I can tell from Auguste’s text. Besides, I doubt my uncle will be able to get it up for a while. I'm hoping I ruptured his testicles.”

"If you didn't I'll be happy to go and try my hardest to rupture his testicles. I'll give it a few tries just to make sure," Damen said, making Laurent smile.

They stepped out of the shower and dried themselves off quickly, Damen stepping out pf the room to get Laurent and himself something to wear. Laurent took the time to search Damen’s cupboards and find some Savlon and band-aids for his hands. 

Damen returned to him fully dressed in worn out, at home clothing, along with some of Laurent’s own clothing. He had stayed at Damen’s often enough that he had left behind a shirt and some underwear, but he had to make do with a pair of Damen’s sweatpants that fortunately enough had a drawstring.  

His phone started to ring again when he pulled the shirt over his head.

“No point avoiding it any longer,” Laurent said, and put down the lid of the toilet to sit.

“Hello,” Lauren said, answering the phone at last.

“What the fuck, Laurent?!” Auguste said, his voice vicious and loud.

“I guess I should expect that.” Laurent said, closing his eyes as his head started to throb again. 

“Where the fuck are you? I’m on Edmonstone Street, and I will knock on every single door on this street and the next unless you tell me where you are!”

At some point, Damen had taken the Savlon and started to gently apply it to the cut on his forehead.

“You’re a street off, I’m the next one over on Turbolt, number 47, unit 4, see you then.”

Laurent hung up on Auguste who continued to rant down the phone.

“He was close, only a street off.”

“So, I didn’t hear anything, other than angry shouting, so I need you to tell me now.” Damen said, twisting the cap back on the ointment.

“Yes?”

“Is your brother, one of the people I need to punch.”

Laurent laughed somehow, standing up and pressing a quick kiss to Damen’s cheek. 

“No, don’t punch my brother… ever.” 

Laurent ducked around Damen and into the kitchen, picking up the kettle and filling it with water. Damen was silent as he followed after, taking three mugs down from the cupboard and putting them on the bench next to the kettle.

“Any pain killers?” Laurent said, the throbbing in his head increasing as he thought of the coming conversation with his brother. 

“I’ve got some Forte left over from when I had my wisdom teeth removed, but they’re pretty strong,” Damen said, tearing the tea bags out of their package. 

“That’ll do, I don’t think this headache is going anywhere.

“I don’t even have any sugar,” Damen said, somehow sad whilst looking down at the mugs.

Laurent laughed again, as if that was in any way a concern at the moment.

“I’m sure we’ll live,” Laurent said, kissing his cheek again. “Where are the tablets?”

Damen directed him to kitchen draw while he pour the boiled water into the mugs. Laurent took two and swallowed them whilst leaning over the kitchen sink and taking handfuls of water into his mouth. 

Damen had just pulled the tea bags out of the mugs when there was a sharp, rapid knock on the door.

“Are you ready for this?” Laurent said. Damen nodded and then said.

“Just to confirm, I can’t punch him?”

“No, now open the door before he kicks it down.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for mentions of sexual abuse, violence and blood.
> 
> ...
> 
> Ta-da?


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. Auguste was being difficult to write, and then all of them were.  
> This is in a bad need of an edit so please excuse any mistakes or point out the major ones.  
> I wanted to ket the chapter out before I thought about it anymore. I'm also back to Uni so the amount of time I have is basically none! (Why did I choose a double degree again -__-)  
> However, I think I am more organised this semester so hopefully I will have time to update.  
> Also! I know I did not reply to your comments as I usually would but yeah... I actually just didn't know what to say.  
> But thank you all, and I'm glad so many of you were delighted by it and sorry for those who don't like violence. I need to add a tag for that.  
> Anyway! Enough of me making excuses for myself!  
> Not long to go now before the end and thank you all again.

Laurent had taken his cup of tea and sat on the couch, leaving Damen to open the door on what was sure to be a furious Auguste. Sitting down, he tried to ignore the rapid beating of his heart and calm the way that his mind went through at high speed, everything that he needed to say to Auguste. He wished to himself that he had more time to prepare, even though he had been preparing himself for this conversation for seven long years.

He had had the coming conversation with his brother in his head many times. He had gone through every possible outcome he could think of. When he was younger, Auguste would believe him, tell him it was not his fault and storm off to confront his father and uncle. In some scenarios he beat their uncle senseless, much like Laurent had done earlier that day.

However, as more time passed, and the conversation never came about, Laurent started to imagine things progressing much more negatively. Auguste would be disgusted with him, he would walk away from him. He imagined that Auguste would not know how to act around him anymore, or even want to be around him.

In time, he had let things be.

In all the scenarios he had imagined, he never once thought that he would have someone there with him. Someone like Damen. It was Damen that had made the difference in his life, and if it was not for him, Laurent doubted he would even have told Auguste as much as he already had.

Now he was sitting on a couch, moments away from telling his brother exactly why he had beat their uncle to a bloody pulp, but he would also have to tell him about what happened to Nicaise. He would have to bring to light the history of someone who was about to become a family member to Auguste.

He knew Auguste was a good person, he knew it down to his bones. Yet, he could not help but wonder if what he was about to say was going to affect Auguste’s life negatively, and even if it would impact on his coming marriage.

He did not have any more time to think, because with a nod of his head, Damen opened the door and met Auguste for the first time.

“What the fuck?!” Auguste said, meaning to storm through the door, only to be met with all six foot three of Damen’s hulking form, “Oh… um, hello? I might have the wrong door.”

“I made tea,” was all Damen said.

“Right.”

“But I don’t have any sugar, or milk actually. Didn’t think I would be having guests and all.”

There was an awkward silence as the two stared at each other before Damen finally stepped aside to let Auguste in, giving him a view of Laurent sitting patiently on the couch, his cup of tea clasped tightly in his hand.

He looked furious for a second, and then seemed to calm down upon looking at his brother properly. Damen closed and locked the door as Auguste made his way across the room, stopping before Laurent for a moment before sitting down on the coffee table so that he could face Laurent directly.

“Are you alright?” Auguste said, reaching his hand up as if to cup Laurent’s face before stopping. His hand dropped slowly, as if he did not know what to do with the action, before settling on his leg and rubbing his thigh nervously.

“Yes?” Laurent said, softly before following with. “No, not really.”

“What the hell happened today?”

Laurent dropped his gaze, unable to look his brother in the eye. He had no idea as to where he was to begin, and the silence rang out thick and heavy in the apartment.

Damen appeared beside him, sitting down close enough to be a comfort, but just far enough away that he could give Laurent space if it was needed, something Laurent was grateful for.

“Tea?” Damen said, holding out the extra mug.

Auguste took the mug and held it in his lap but seemed to think nothing of it.

“Laurent, what happened today? I’ve got one beat up uncle, a furious father, a terrified brother in law and one pissed off future wife. I need to know what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Laurent said, with a bark of laughter, “I’m not the fucking problem here.”

“What am I supposed to think? You came back and just started beating the shit out of uncle!”

Before Laurent could bark back, he felt Damen take his hand softly and lace their fingers together. The feeling cause Laurent to pull back and turn to Damen for the support he needed.

“Is he going to be here for this conversation?” Auguste said, obviously getting impatient.

“Yes,” Damen said, with a bit to his words, “He is.”

“His name is Damianos. Or Damen, if he’ll let you, and he’s the only support I have right now so he’s not fucking going anywhere.”

Auguste reeled back, not use to Laurent speaking to him so harshly. He placed the still untouched mug of tea down next to him so that he could run his fingers through his hair and take a breath.

“Alright,” Auguste said, taking another breath, “Okay, just… I’m a little unnerved.”

“Things aren’t going to get much better,” Laurent said, squeezing Damen’s hand tighter.

“Just, tell me, flat out, I need to know what’s going on between you, father and uncle.”

Laurent took a deep breath and moved closer to Damen so that their bodies were pressed together.

“You know, that when mother died, uncle moved into the house to take care of me since father was away so often. What you need to know is,” Laurent paused, trying to figure out the best way to word what needed to be said.  “Is what happened between uncle and I over the next two years.”

…

In the end the conversation Laurent had been dreading for seven years only took fifteen minutes. No one but him spoke during that time and when it was over the silence hung heavily in the air. Auguste looked pale and sickly by the end, but he did not utter a word. And after five minutes of silence, Auguste stood and went to leave the apartment without a glance in Laurent’s direction.

“Check your emails!” Laurent said in a shout.

He did not know if Auguste had heard, as the door slammed shut behind him the moment he called out.

The tension in his body dropped from the moment Auguste left and Laurent felt himself sag into the couch, limp and weary. He let his head fall to rest on Damen’s shoulder and tried not to think.

“Are you going to be okay?” Damen said, letting his other hand fall to rest on their clasped hands.

“I’ve thought about telling him for years,” Laurent said, trying not to choke on his words. “I thought of every possible outcome, even him walking out.”

“It doesn’t make it okay,” Damen said, raising his hand to push Laurent’s head to his shoulder. He moved himself around on the couch so that they were better aligned to rest against one another.

“I didn’t think it would hurt this much,” Laurent said, his voice choked and his eyes stinging with held back tears.

“It’s okay to feel hurt right now,” Damen said.

With those words, Laurent let himself cry for the first time in years.

“Does this mean I can punch him now?” Damen said.

Laurent let himself laugh through his tears, and then broke down even harder, sobbing against Damen’s side.

“I just feel so tired,” Laurent said, his words feeling heavy on his tongue.

“That’s understandable after everything,” Damen said, running his hand through his hair. “Also, those pills I gave you before are probably kicking in. I told you they were strong. Would you like to lay down?”

Laurent nodded weakly with tears still heavy in his eyes. Damen stood up and helped him to lay down on the couch, giving him a soft but linger kiss on the forehead.

He lay in a daze as Damen moved around him, gathering up their mugs. Laurent felt the need to cry again when Damen picked up Auguste’s untouched mug. He pressed his face against the arm of the couch and let a few more stray tears fall whilst listening to the sounds of Damen move around him.

Sometime later, Damen returned and gentle propped a pillow under his head.

“What am I going to do?” Laurent said, looking up at him.

“What you’ve done for the past seven years, stay strong and prove them wrong,” Damen said with a smile on his face whilst ruffling his hair, “Now go to sleep, just for a little while, I won’t promise you’ll feel better, but you might.”

Damen kissed his forehead again before draping a thin sheet over him. When he went to leave Laurent stretch out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

“Stay,” Laurent said softly, “Just for a moment.”

“Okay,” Damen said, sitting down on the coffee table just as Auguste had done moments before.

Laurent fell asleep to the feeling of Damen’s hand clutching his, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb over his hand.

…

He woke to the sound of his phone ringing and buzzing in his pocket. His first thought was to pull the phone from his pocket and throw it as far away from him as possible. When it was gone he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, shielding himself from the lights that shone in his eyes.

“Hello?” he heard Damen say.

“Hello?” Laurent slurred back, lifting his head from his pillow.

“Go back to sleep,” Damen said, patting him gently on the head.

Laurent dropped back down and burrowed into the darkness wanting nothing more than to return to his peaceful sleep.

“He’s asleep,” Damen said, his voice keeping Laurent drifting just about sleep. “No, I’m not going to wake him. Do you know how much pain you caused him tonight?”

Laurent realised distantly, that Damen must have answered his phone. Not being able to hear the other end of the conversation, he was at first confused as to who he was talking to. And then Laurent startled properly into the waking world when he realised it must have been Auguste. Not moving from his position, he feigned sleep whilst trying to pick up as much of the conversation as he could.

“I don’t care,” Damen said. There were a few moments of silence before Damen spat out the word, “Fine!”. A moment later Laurent recognised the sound of his phone being placed back down onto the table.

He heard Damen sigh loudly and then start to move around almost like he was pacing, which he probably was. Laurent tried to go back to sleep, but found that he couldn’t, nor could he find the effort to get up. He remained unresponsive on the couch and kept up the pretence that he was still sleeping.

Around five minutes later there was a knock on the door and he heard Damen sigh once again before moving to open the door.

“Hey. Thanks for letting me in.”

Laurent felt his heart rate spike as he recognised Auguste’s voice.

“I haven’t let you in yet,” he heard Damen positively growl. “Not until you explain yourself. He thinks the world of you and you broke his fucking heart tonight.”

“I know, I fucked up, I just panicked. It’s not easy to hear.”

“And I’m sure it was easy for him to tell.” Damen said sarcastically.

Laurent almost wanted to call Damen out for his oxymoron. They had had a basically identical conversation the night Laurent had told Damen what had happened to him.

“I know, I know. Just please let me talk to him.”

There was a moment of silence and the sound of the door shutting. Laurent thought for a second that Damen had closed the door on him.

“He’s asleep right now. The whole night really took it out of him,” Damen said.

‘And some prescription pain killers’ Laurent thought to himself.

“I’ll wait as long as I need to. I really need to explain myself to him.”

“Tea?”

“Thank you.”

Whilst Damen put the kettle on, Laurent made an act of moving around on the couch, making as if he was waking up. Damen was by his side in a second, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder.

“Damen?” he said, not having to fake the slur of his voice as his tongue and his body as a whole still felt heavy. He rolled around to see Damen kneeling down next to him, a gentle reassuring smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said softly. “How’re you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Mostly tired.”

“You can go back to sleep if you want, but… um, well your brother is back.”

“Hey Lulu,” Auguste said softly, guiltily.

Even though Laurent had heard their conversation, he still didn’t know how to feel or act in Auguste’s presence. He pulled himself up to sit on the couch, wrapping the thin sheet around him almost like a safety blanket. The most he could manage was a nod in Auguste’s direction before turning back to Auguste.

“Do you want to talk, or would you rather wait until morning?” Damen said, acting as the mediator.

Laurent glanced over at Auguste, noticing how drawn and ultimately terrified his brother looked. He was angry yes, but he knew that it was not an easy thing to hear. Having heard Nicaise’s story had horrified him and made him feel physically sick. Auguste had to hear not only his story of abuse, but the story of a young boy close to him whose abuse was still on going.

Just then the kettle audible boiled and clicked off.

“I think coffee over tea is preferable at the moment.”

“Of course,” Damen said, standing up and walking to his pantry. “And I even got Vannes to give me some regular grounds from her work since my hazelnut infused blend was so offensive to you. I may not have milk or sugar, but I have the right coffee.”

“God, I love you,” Laurent said, rubbing his face.

Damen stilled in his movements, looking over at Laurent with a beaming smile like he had just won the lottery.

“I love you too!” he said, a little bit too loud for the atmosphere that hung over the apartment.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Laurent said, allowing the barest hint of a smile to touch his lips.

While Damen went about making the coffee, Laurent turned his attention back to Auguste.

“Come sit down,” Laurent said, curling up into a corner indicating that Auguste should sit next to him on the couch.

“I’m so sorry,” Auguste said, crossing the space quickly and sitting down close to him. “I know it was hard for you, I know that, and I’m so sorry. But I just panicked.”

“It’s alright,” Laurent said, but even as he said it he could tell there was no real emotion behind his words.

“It’s not! I’m sorry, it’s just that when I was sitting there after you told me, I was trying to figure out what to say. But I couldn’t think.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a lawyer?” Laurent said, a hint of sarcasm reaching his words.

“Defending corporations against breaches of security is not quite the same. I mean sure there have been some horrific cases over the years involving sexual harassment and inappropriate sharing of data but it’s a bit different hearing a story of sexual abuse from your brother, but that’s not what I wanted to say. I panicked because while I was trying to process everything, the first coherent thought that came to my head was that I needed to get Elaine and Nicaise out of that house.”

While he was still hurt about Auguste’s silent and sudden departure, Laurent really could not fault him for acting as he did.

“How… how are they?”

“Honestly I have no idea. It took me almost an hour to get them out of the house because Elaine wasn’t budging until she got her answers and Nicaise was just in his room blaring music.”

“So, Elaine knows?” Laurent said softly, not knowing how he felt about another person being told his story.

“I’m sorry Laurent, I know it’s your story, but she needed to know about Nicaise, she had a right to know.”

Damen arrived with a mug of coffee as Laurent wondered silently about how Auguste had told the story.

“Thanks,” he said, not looking at either man.

“The lock makes sense now,” Auguste said, accepting his own mug of coffee with a nod. “Not that it’s their anymore, when Elaine found out she got the door open in two kicks.”

“Never underestimate an amazon who cycles,” Laurent said, before taking a sip from his mug.

“She is an amazon, isn’t she?” Auguste said, with a smile on his face sounding proud. But the smile quickly fell from his face. “Anyway, after she dragged Nicaise from the room they started screaming at each other while I tried to pack our stuff. Then we caught an Uber to a hotel. Well, after that Nicaise started crying and then Elaine was crying.”

“Did you… check your email?” Laurent said softly.

Auguste let out a deep breath of air through pursed lips whilst leaning back against the couch.

“I sure did. I thought I’d check it out and give the two of them some time, but that just pissed Elaine off and she demanded to know what was so important. And when I saw Nicaise’s name in your email I just showed her you know? And that started another bout of screaming and crying. Anyway, long story short, Elaine is in the middle of head hunting and probably doing some things slightly illegal. Nicaise’s asleep, finally, although there were a lot of tears, and ‘You don’t understand’ and ‘I’m not a child’ and fuck… yeah. After things had calmed down a bit there, I knew I had to come here and see you. Elaine was fucking pissed at first but then she just sort of stopped. She realised that we were both going through the same thing and you know, we talked a bit, and here I am.”

“Tell Elaine I’m sorry,” Laurent said.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, sitting back up and turning to face him. “You don’t need to apologise, this… everything, it needed to be said. I couldn’t stop what happened to you, but we can stop what is happening to Nicaise.”

Laurent nodded and sipped his coffee, unable to meet Auguste’s gaze. Instead he sort out Damen who was leaning against the kitchen counter. He was silent but observant and when he caught Laurent’s eyes he raised his brows in a silent question. Laurent shook his head and turned back to his brother.

“Now what?” he said.

Auguste let out another long breath of air and placed his mug on the table, moving closer to Laurent with his hands clasped tightly together.

“First thing is, I’m going back home… to the house, and waiting for father and unc… and him. I want to talk to them and get anything I can out of them.”

Laurent scoffed and shuffled as far away as he could. Damen left his vidual in the kitchen and knelt beside him once again, offering his hand. Laurent was quick to take it, squeezing slightly before letting his head tip forward so that their foreheads pressed together softly.

“I know, this isn’t what you want to hear,” Auguste said, “But I’m sure after a year of law and another of business, you know that these things don’t happen overnight. We need to take things slowly and move carefully, we need to gather evidence and find out if there are… if there are other people out there that he’s hurt. The list you sent me is a whole other can of worms.”

“So, we just wait and do nothing?” Damen said, his voice stiff with barely controlled anger.

“We wait yes, and for now, do little. If I know my future wife at all, she’s probably already got the ball rolling. I need to talk to father and see how much he’s willing to admit. I’m going to play a role, and Laurent, it’s going to be hard on you, because I’m going to act like I’m going to let them get away with it.”

Laurent wanted to bite back, he wanted to swear and curse his brother, but he was just too tired and really, he knew that he should at least try to trust his brother’s words.

“How long?” he said, trying to sound confident even as he closed his eyes and leaning closer to Damen.

“I don’t know,” Auguste said truthfully.

Damen stood up suddenly and stormed from the room, moving instead to the doorway of his bedroom.

“I think it’s best if you guy’s talk without me, I’ll be on the balcony Laurent.” Damen said, before closing the door to his room.

Auguste sighed and picked up his coffee, sipping from it slowly, filling in the silence with the act.

“What’s your estimate on time?” Laurent said carefully.

“Well,” Auguste said, leaning back with his brow creased in thought. “As I said we have to gather evidence. As legally as possible, then we’ll have to pass it on to the right people. I’ll have to get in contact with people up here more familiar with the state laws and yes, I’m a lawyer, but I’ll need someone with the right background and history etcetera. We’ll have to check connections and make sure the information ends up with the right people. Unfortunately, there are too many people with fingers in multiple pies, father being one them.”

“Which is why you have to pretend you don’t care,” Laurent said, gripping his sheet tight again.

“I’m not going to pretend I don’t care,” Auguste said rubbing his face. It was easy to see how tired he was, and Laurent realised that he did not even know what time of the night or morning it was. “What I’m going to try and do, is be as pissed off as I actually am, and then act like I have a price for keeping quiet. I’m sure father would be more willing to talk if he thinks I’m more like him.”

“Which he always wanted. What price?”

“I’ve got something in mind,” Auguste said with a smirk. “I think at the moment it’ll be more productive to focus on the names you sent me. Guys like that, they’re more likely to leave a trail. I’ll see what Elaine has dug up and we’ll go from there. At the same time, I’ll quietly make sure I’m taking the right steps for dealing with uncle. And when I say that, I mean the right steps to dealing with father. I think he’s probably been covering up for him for a long time.”

He went to sip from his mug only to find it empty and for some reason that made him more angry than the conversation happening between them. Auguste passed Laurent his barely touched mug.

“I’m wired enough as it is,” Auguste said, standing up. “You know I want to stay here with you right?”

Laurent nodded.

“I’m sorry, but I need to go back and talk to them now. If I leave it too long I won’t be able to convince them of anything.”

Laurent nodded again and stood up from the couch, finally letting the sheet fall away from him.

“Thanks for coming over. I understand though. If you had waited any long to come talk to be I don’t think I would have trusted you either. Not that you can hid, you don’t have a dishonest bone in your body.”

“Not really, but I’m very good with twisting the meaning of my words.”

“That’s the lawyer in you.”

Auguste laughed and stepped forward to wrap Laurent in a hug.

“I’d tell you to get used to it if you still plan to study law, but I think you’ve already got the hand of it.”

Hugging him back, Laurent made a promise to himself, that through whatever means possible, he would finish his law degree one day.

“Alright,” Auguste said, stepping back and taking a hold of Laurent by the shoulders. “I’ve got to go the sun will be up soon and I’ve got things to do. Wish me luck!”

Laurent simply nodded and seconds later Auguste was out the door.

He felt good despite the heavy topic and everything that had happened. As much as he was itching to get the ball rolling now that everything was out in the open, he knew Auguste was right. He had to be patient and wait.

Picking up the sheet, he moved through the apartment until he was standing at the doorway of the balcony. Damen was sitting on the two seater wooden bench staring out across the city.

The sky was still thick and dark, but in the distance, there was the slightest hint of sunlight in the early tinge of morning.

Laurent moved to sit next to him, throwing the thin sheet around Damen’s shoulders and shuffling up next to him.

“Now what?” Damen said, placing his hand softly on Laurent’s leg.

“We wait and trust.”

They did not speak again as they slowly watched the sky brighten. When the sun first peaked over the horizon and shot out the first beams of true light, they went back inside and lay down, holding each other close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this was an annoying chapter to write I started working on a one-shot in-between.   
> I'll probably post the one-shot before the next chapter so pleeeeeease be nice to it!   
> :D  
> Thanks, and love you all.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you guys know, this chapter has like, a shit tonne of fluff and cheese. It's like some ripped the stuffing out of a toy unicorn, covered it in a three cheese sauce, sprinkled it in more cheese and then baked it. Maybe there is some corn thrown on top.   
> Okay, maybe not that extreme but you get the point.  
> There's a bit of angst, Damen with some precarious towel placement and some other stuff that I won't mention cause you know.  
> There is only one chapter left! Like holy shit this fucking thing has taken like two years. I think I'll be sticking to one-shots for a while.  
> Speaking of, I posted a one-shot recently if anyone is interested.  
> To those who were already interested and commented thanks!

Laurent sat at his usual spot on the balcony, over-looking the lapping waters of the small brown creek that wound its way through the suburb. It was late in the day and the tide was low, making the edges surrounding the water a muddy mess and the water hard to see. However, if he concentrated hard enough, Laurent found that he could still hear the gentle movement of the water.

It was the first day the café had been open after having closed for three days for the Christmas period. A period that Laurent had spent alone at Damen’s apartment, with no contact from his father, which he wasn’t surprised about, and no contact from Auguste, which he also was not surprised about, but still hurt none the less.

He wasn’t religious, Christmas did not mean anything to him in that sense. However, he still had this feeling that it was a day for family. Damen had tried to invite him along to his yearly trip down south with Nik. Ever since Damen’s father had died he had spent the holiday with Nik and his family. He had refused, not because he didn’t want to meet the people who were family to Damen, but because he couldn’t face the family atmosphere.

When Vannes had found out she tried to invite him to what she called her ‘orphan’s Christmas’, for those who found themselves too far away from family or for those whose family abandoned them. He refused once again, and he had told them both honestly, that what he really needed, as much as he loved them both, was some time alone.

Damen left on a plane to visit his last remaining family, and Vannes had let him be. He spent Christmas day alone in Damen’s apartment. He turned his phone off, letting any necessary people know, and then did something he had never done before. He let himself get drunk.

He hated every moment of it but found he could not stop. He drank until he felt sick, and then he drank some more. He wanted to feel the euphoria of a blank mind and experience the nothingness that was supposed to come.

It was a disappointment then, when he found himself depressed and close to tears, sitting on the floor of the shower while the water washed over him. All he felt was sick and lonely.

The next day, boxing day, he spent in bed, hung over and unable to stomach any food and wondering why in hell people thought drinking was a good way to forget. If forgetting meant he would spend his day focused more on sickness, than the pain he felt mentally, then he did not won’t to trade long term pain for a single day of it.

On the 27th he made himself an omelette and a cup of coffee and sat on Damen’s balcony with a book to watch the sun rise. Being alone at Damen’s place, was different to being alone in the place he had grown up in. It was different in that it didn’t matter and there was no one there to tell him that it did. There were bad memories there, but not ones that couldn’t be healed. It was Damen’s place, but he felt like he could make it his own in time.

When the day grew long, and he felt the need, he left the apartment and walked to the coffee shop that had started it all. It was quiet, being that it was the first day it was open after the short break. Vannes wasn’t working and the person making the coffee barely knew him, but he felt he preferred that for now.

It had been over a week since everything happened. His bruising was gone and other than the small still pink scar on his head, he bore no physical signs.

The day after everything had come to the surface, Laurent had woken to a sweat soaked afternoon pressed to Damen’s back and a text message from Auguste. It was simple, only saying that he had sent Elaine and Nicaise back south and that he was staying behind for a while. That had been the last time he had heard from his brother, and he had not tried to communicate with Auguste since.

He knew it was necessary so that Auguste could do what he needed to do, but it still hurt a little bit. He trusted Auguste completely, but there was still a small part of his mind that worried. And that worry kept him from sleeping comfortably, wondering if after everything Auguste was going to tell him to never speak of what happened to him.

As these thoughts went, he wondered if maybe what happened to Nicaise would be covered up too. Some nights the thoughts got so bad that he almost asked Damen where he kept the pain killers, just so he could get a good night’s sleep.

Whether Damen knew his thoughts or simply noticed his disrupted sleep, he had sat him down one night, shortly before he left, and told him there was no shame in going to a doctor and asking for help. The conversation had very nearly led to an argument until Damen had quietly explained that after everything happened between his brother and Jokaste that he had had trouble.

The thought that he could have been a father, that for a moment he thought there was a child that was his, those thoughts kept him up at night and worked on him during the day. In the end he reached out and got the helped he needed. Damen was very careful to explain that he understood they were in very different situations.

The argument never happened, and Laurent promised to think about it.

It was half the reason he decided that he needed some time on his own. He needed to process things in his own space, without anyone else’s input. It helped him organise his thoughts and when Damen was back, he would be willing to discuss what he planned to do.

By the time he finished his coffee, the café was packing up. While Vannes usually told him when it was time to move on, the other barista was packing up loudly around him. It was rude yes, but Laurent knew after months of knowing Vannes, that they just wanted to go home, and a lingering customer prevented that. So, he packed up and started his walk back to Damen’s unit.

On his walk home, he tried to read a book that Damen had referred to as ‘popcorn fiction’. Something purely for entertainment and not necessarily mentally stimulating. It was simple enough, but Laurent found himself frustrated by it. While Damen did have a large collection of books, Laurent found that Damen also owned a startlingly large amount of this ‘popcorn fiction’.

He imagined it was this same simple fascination that kept Damen watching competitive cooking shows every night. They had once had a fairly heated conversation about the matter with Laurent blaming the shows on why people were so arrogant towards people in the food industry. Damen’s defence being that Vannes was not a viable source of information on the conditions of the food industry.

In the end, Laurent had just started leaving the room when Damen watched them, although he did notice that Damen was also spending less of his time watching them more recently. Laurent guessed that was a kind of compromise.

Finding that he was focused more on his anger towards competitive TV shows than he was on the book, he put it away and walked the last five minutes back to the unit simply taking in his surroundings. He was still trying to absorb how freeing it was to walk the streets he had known his whole life and find it felt like he was in a whole other place. Even if he didn’t have a job and was technically homeless or if his next year of university was still going to happen.

Technically he was still under his father’s care, and with the amount of money his father earned, there was no way he could apply for HECS. It was something he would have to work on soon, officially emancipating himself from his father. Something that his father would most likely make hard for him just to make his life miserable.

Something for tomorrow, he said to himself as he unlocked the door.

Being so caught up in his thoughts, he had not noticed that the lights to the unit were on. When he stepped inside he was stunned for a moment, confused, until he saw Damen’s bag on the floor and his shoes kicked off next to it. He felt a thrill of excitement run through him as he hadn’t been expecting Damen for another two days.

“Damen?” he called out, slipping out of his own shoes and dropping his key into the bowl next to the door.

“In here!” Damen called out from the bathroom.

It only took a moment for him to reach the bathroom and pull the door open.

“Hey!”  Damen said, smiling at him through the mirror, his face half covered with shaving cream as he dragged a razor over his face.

The air was still damp from the shower Damen had just taken, and he was naked but for a towel that was tied just a bit too low on his hips.

“Sex!” Laurent said, surprising himself.

“What?” Damen said, looking generally confused, the razor hanging from his hand.

“Sex now!”

“What? Laurent, I’m tired,” Damen said, going back to his shaving. “I just got off the plane and I couldn’t get a taxi and the Uber prices at the airport are ridiculous which I refuse to pay. I had to catch a train, also ridiculous in price by the way, and then I had to wait for a bus and then I had to walk. I am exhausted.”

“Fine,” Laurent said, crossing his arms and trying not to feel embarrassed.

“But,” Damen said, finishing up and splashing water over his face, “I will suck you off.”

“Fine.”

Turning around, Damen let the towel drop from his waist and held his arms open.

“Come here you,” he said.

Laurent would forever deny that he had quite literally leaped into his arms.

…

Afterwards Laurent lay naked on Damen’s bed in drowsy tranquillity while Damen brushed his teeth. While he had needed the time alone he was still thrilled that Damen had returned earlier than expected.

Damen made his way back into the room giving Laurent a quick peck before laying down next to him with a deep sigh.

“Nothing’s as good as your own bed.”

“Except for yours,” Laurent said, rolling to rest his head on Damen’s chest. Damen was quick to respond, pulling him closer and running a hand through his hair.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Laurent said, running a hand over Damen’s muscle definition. “But how come you’re back early?”

“Two reasons. One, I missed you so much, and two, well, you’ll see in a bit.”

“Hmm? A surprise?”

“Kind of.”

Laurent didn’t question him on the matter and instead focused on the feel of Damen’s body and the gentle movements of his hand in his hair.

“Damen?”

“Yes?”  
“Aren’t you fairly well off in the money department?”

“As well as in other departments,” he said, laughing at his own joke.

“I mean, why refuse to pay for the Uber? It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

“Also, two reasons,” Damen said, untangling them to roll on his side and prop himself up with one hand. “I haven’t always been well off, I’m use to looking for the cheapest option, also it’s the principle. It’s like paying for parking at the hospital, someone’s always out to make money off of people who have no other option. I refuse to pay it.”

It made enough sense, but Laurent didn’t want to point out that Damen was one of the ones that could afford it but, it was a conversation for another day.

“Okay,” he said, letting it go. “So, what’s the surprise?”

“You’ll see,” Damen said, getting up and moving to his cupboard. He quickly put on an old worn pair of the tantalisingly short, shorts he wore at work and a slightly less worn out shirt. Laurent guessed it was true that Damen was used to making do if he still thought it worth it to hang onto such old clothing.

“Seems a shame to cover all that up.” Lauren said, refusing to move from the bed and dress himself.

“Can I just say how much I love how open you are since I go back?” Damen said, smiling brightly.

“It’s a combination of I missed you and I feel so fucking free, like I’m a different person while at the same time I’m who I’m supposed to be.”

Damen kissed him then, and it was somehow sweet and lingering as well as quick and dirty. Laurent put it down to the way Damen had used his tongue at exactly the right time.

“Come on, up you get. We can lay around naked later.”

“Promise?”

Damen just smiled and threw his discarded t-shirt at his head.

…

The sun had set, and Laurent was in the kitchen putting away the dishes from that morning while subtly suggesting pizza for dinner when there was a knock on the door.

“If it’s that Jehovah’s Witness again I’ve already told him off twice this week.”

“Um no it’s not,” Damen said, “It’s your surprise, but just remember you called it that and not me.”

Laurent simple raised his eyebrows and turned his attention to the door as Damen moved to open it.

“Auguste,” he breathed out the moment the door was open.

He moved to the entrance quickly and was overcome by pure relief when Auguste pulled him forward into a tight hug.

“Surprise?” Damen said.

“How would this not be a surprise?” Lauren said, refusing to release Auguste.

“Well he said you two hadn’t been talking and I didn’t know how you would react, but I wanted you two to talk and I honestly hated keeping it from you. Also, I have no idea how he got my number.”

“Best not to think about it,” Auguste said pulling away from the hug and moving inside. “Sorry for the radio silence Lulu, I couldn’t risk them finding out that we were talking.”

“But it’s okay to visit?”

“They think I’m on a plane right now, and I will be later tonight.”

“You’ve been there the whole time then?”

“Tea?” Damen interrupted, kettle in hand, “I made sure to pick up milk and sugar too!”

“Sure,” Auguste said, “Let’s sit down. We’ve got some things to discuss.”

Once they all had cups of tea, they settled down with Damen and Laurent side by side on the couch and Auguste sitting in front of them on the coffee table.

“First of all, I think you’ll be happy to know that you broke Uncle’s nose and ruptured a testicle.”

“Yes,” Damen hissed.

Laurent just smiled and nodded.

“Anyway, I’ve spent the last week or so arguing with father and agreeing to some things that would make me feel sick if I didn’t have an end game. So, I’ll start with the bad news first, I’m sorry, Laurent.”

“It’s okay,” Laurent said before he could finish, in a way he had already accepted that Uncle would get away with everything.

“Let me finish,” Auguste said, putting his cup down and taking a hold of Laurent’s shoulders, “I’m sorry, because this is probably going to take a long time. A lot longer than I thought, father still doesn’t trust me, and he _has_ been hiding him for a long time. It’s hard to find anything on him, entire parts of his past are entirely blank, which is enough to peak interest but not a complete investigation on him. Although, I have managed to discreetly contact some people who might be able to find the information we need. This kind of thing, it goes a long way.”

“Okay,” Laurent said, leaning back and away from Auguste’s touch. Damen immediately took his hand, squeezing it lightly.

“But there is some better news,” Auguste said with a sigh, running his hand through his hair. “Elaine has been very busy tracking down all the people that hurt Nicaise. They’re not as well connected and mostly sloppy. You’ll probably hear about it in the news soon although for the time being she’s keeping her name out of it until I can get the info I need for you. If father thinks she’s in anyway connected he’ll bury uncle so far down the line he’ll look like a priest… okay not the best choice of words but you know what I mean.”

“That’s good,” Laurent said, he was genuinely relieved, even if it wasn’t his own personal justice.

“I’ll keep you updated. But! More good news,” Auguste said, smiling again and actually looking excited. “I’ve managed to convince father and uncle not to press assault charges against you.”

“Pity,” Laurent said, crossing his arms, “Being the person that beat the shit out of him is about all I’ve got going for me right now.”

“The good news gets better,” Auguste said, pulling a folded stack of paper from his pocket and handing it over.

Too curious to refuse, Laurent took the paper and opened it up, his eyes flashing over the typed pages. At the bottom of the last page were four signatures, three of them witnesses to his father’s agreement.

“Are you fucking serious!” Laurent said, jumping up and gripping the paper so tightly it almost ripped.

“What is it?” Damen said with worry, also standing up.

“This basically says that father has agreed to pay for my school, for whatever I want, until I complete a degree, any degree, and get full time work, it’s even got a weekly allowance! Oh, this is great, he must be so pissed off!” Laurent said, trying not to laugh manically. “I want to change majors every year for a few years just to piss him off more.”

“This is the condition of my silence,” Auguste said, standing to join them, “Well, he thinks it is, for a business man he never really thought to include that in writing, just signed it and handed it over.”

“This is perfect,” Laurent said, grabbing Damen and pulling him down for a kiss.

The kiss quickly turns to something a bit more heated and both of them forgot for a moment that there was anyone else in the room.

“Right,” Auguste said awkwardly, “I actually do have a plane to catch now though.  I’ll be in touch.”

Laurent managed to pull himself away from Damen and turn to his brother.

“Thank you, I’m more excited about how angry he would have been. Is that wrong?”

“Not at all, he was pretty pissed,” Auguste said, his smile wide and proud. “Well! I’m off. This isn’t the end of this, it just is for now.”

“Okay,” Laurent said, leaning against Damen.

They stood holding each other well after Auguste had left and when they finally pulled apart Damen simply looked down at the coffee table and sighed.

“That is the last time I offer your brother tea,” Damen said, picking up the still full cup. “He never drinks it.”

He took the cup to the sink pouring it down the drain and quickly rinsed the cup, setting it aside to dry.

“Are you disappointed?” Damen said, drying his hands.

Laurent was still staring stupidly at the signed contract, when he realised what Damen meant.

“A little,” Laurent said with a sigh, putting the contract down carefully. “I know what Auguste said, he’s been saying it since the beginning. Yet, I guess I thought that once I spoke out more, it would just all be over. I know it’ll take time and I know I have to be patient. I know that if we don’t do it right, it’ll all collapse and he’ll just be out there, doing what he does.”

“Not for a while anyway,” Damen said, tossing the towel aside and moving back to place his hands either side of Laurent’s hips. “Not with a ruptured testicle.”

“I’ll have to thank Vannes for all those rocket jumps,” Laurent said, which made Damen burst out laughing.

“I’m sure she’d love to hear the story of how you ruptured a man’s testicles,” Damen said, “So, what are you going to study first?”

“I think I’ll do a year of creative writing, just to annoy him.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, and then what?”

“Hmm,” Laurent said, wrapping his arms around Damen’s shoulders and rocking them to and fro, “At the moment I’m wondering if you’re still too exhausted after all your Uber troubles?”

“Well,” Damen said with a smile, “I might have found my second wind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if anyone took offence to the Jahovah's Witness thing. I'm not religious and I don't care if anyone is, thats your life and your beliefs and I totally understand why people believe and need faith.  
> But honestly this one JW keeps knocking on my door and that is my inspiration and he just won't go away.  
> Thanks for making it this far guys and not long now!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there and thank you for reading.  
> This is my first Captive Prince fic and I would really appreciate any feed back.  
> Please, point out mistakes so that I can improve myself and my writing.  
> I know it's full of angst but it's not always going to be this way. I always write so much angst.  
> Please let me know what you think, and if I should continue with this story.


End file.
